


Homecoming

by ProstheticLoVe



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angry Mickey Milkovich, Bipolar Ian, Brotherly Love, Canon-adjacent, Drug Use, Friends to Lovers, Helping Each Other, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mickey is VERY deep in the closet, Out of prison Mickey, Out of psych ward, Protective Mickey, Sisterly Love, Slow Burn, Terry violence, flashbacks to youth, hints of canon, possible triggers, smut in later chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 85,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23437723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProstheticLoVe/pseuds/ProstheticLoVe
Summary: When they were kids, Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich were friends. Now as adults, they’re both struggling with adjusting to the real world after spending time in the psych ward (Ian) and prison (Mickey). Can both of them help each other adjust to life on the outside or will they relapse? Will helping each other morph into something more? Something that when they were young Mickey was too afraid to explore?Basically, an AU of Ian and Mickey helping each other and dealing with their issues together.
Relationships: Fiona Gallagher/Original Male Character(s), Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Lip Gallagher/Mandy Milkovich
Comments: 179
Kudos: 250





	1. Old Faces

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No one belongs to me! If they did, we’d get more Gallavich.
> 
> I know, quarantine makes me write a lot, I guess. Also, I have a deep obsession with Gallavich. It's probably unhealthy and getting worse in quarantine. But what else am I doing...except baking and yoga/running
> 
> Anyway, here’s my new story. Like my other one, I'll be switching off between Mickey and Ian POV. Before we begin, I do want to note that I know nothing about bipolar disease or psych wards, so all of the info I get will be internet research/same goes for prison.
> 
> Some more things to keep in mind, Fiona’s boyfriend is an original character because I never really liked any of her actual ones and because I wanted her in this story, I gave her a happy ending. Also, consider Franny switched out with Fiona’s kid. Debbie isn’t really in this story, but may make an appearance later on. Lastly, forget everything you know about canon, this is totally AU, but there will be hints of canon, just not in a recognizable format. 
> 
> I got the idea because I really like exploring bipolar Ian and Mickey’s internalized homophobia. I wanted to explore what would happen if they both were thrown back into the real world, but from different caged places, and how they could help each other readjust. Also, I love a couple with friendship history...Anywho! Let me know what you think!

**2000**

“Ian, do you have a pencil?” 

Ian looked up into his older sister’s bright brown eyes and smiled shyly at her. “Yeah, Lip gave me one.”

“And what about a notebook?” she asked, hands on her hips.

He nodded again and wiggled the Spiderman backpack Lip had stolen for him from the CVS.

She placed both of her hands on his shoulders and leaned down a bit to look him in the eye.

“It’s going to be scary and kids will be mean, but you always have Lip and I. Debbie and Carl, too” she said confidently.

He looked over her shoulder at Debbie, who was two, and Carl, who had just turned one playing on the front steps of the house they had just moved into. Well, that Frank and Monica put them in before disappearing on another one of their ‘benders’ as Fiona called it.

Fiona had set up the two younger kids with some old toys and had carted everyone outside, so they could wish Ian a good first day of school. Lip was walking with him since they were in the same building, so he didn’t get what the big deal was. Although, when he woke up, his older brother had told him that Fiona had snuck a Hostess cupcake in his lunch for dessert, so he was feeling pretty excited about the day.

If he had to endure a whole day with a bunch of strangers, so be it, at least he got a treat for it.

He figured that if Fiona had splurged on a Hostess cupcake, then starting first grade must be a big deal. 

She moved her hands from his shoulders to his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Now, get on that bus and do what Gallagher’s do best - survive.” she said pushing him toward the sidewalk. 

He looked back at her hesitantly and smiled, “it’ll be fine?” he asked.

She nodded, giving him her best big sister smile, “it’ll be fine, sweetface.” And then she waved toward the bus that was rounding the corner. 

He walked hurriedly toward the stop with Lip by his side and got on the city bus to head to his first day of first grade. Lip was starting second and was already reading chapter books. He, on the other hand, could barely even manage to figure out picture books, so he wasn’t sure what to expect from first grade.

Except that he may be the stupidest person in the class.

He was nervous, scared, and not sure if he was going to make friends, but he remembered Fiona’s encouraging words and the smile. He wished that Lip was going to come with him, but they were only in the same building. Lip told him that they’d probably see each other at lunch and recess though, so he figured that at least he wouldn’t be completely alone. In class, though would be a different story, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t going to have Lip or Fiona with him and he was a little scared.

Maybe a lot scared.

His siblings always looked out for him and now, he was going to have to be brave and strong like them to survive school.

“Are the kids nice?” Ian asked interrupting Lip rambling on about how trains worked.

Lip frowned, “who cares if kids are nice. It’s about what you can get from them.”

Scowling at the answer, he turned back out the window of the bus and hugged his bag tighter against his chest. “Do you think I’ll make friends?” he asked after a few minutes.

Lip smiled slightly, “do you want to make friends?”

“Yes.”

“Then you will. Just don’t become friends with anyone from the South Side. Try to make friends with people who have stuff, you know, so you can get good snacks and shit. Maybe steal a Gameboy too.” Lip said, nudging Ian. “Be smart about who you choose to hang out with.” Lip said as he began to get up from the seat.

Ian nodded, pocketing that bit of information for later. Then they got off the bus and headed into the bustling school. 

He felt a twist in his stomach as he saw parents dropping kids off and he wondered why his parents weren’t here, but he almost wanted to laugh at the idea of Frank and Monica doing something so domestic. 

He wanted to reach for Lip’s hand, but he was afraid that would make him look like a chicken shit, so he squeezed the handle of his Spiderman backpack and listened as his brother told him where to go.

After Lip told him where to meet after school, so they could go home together, he headed for the kindergarten section of the building. He was now off by himself in the sea of students all jostling him about and the pit of nerves seemed to escalate as he looked around him to all of the other kids who all seemed so...different from him.

He tried to remember what Lip told him, but he ended up getting turned around in a wing of the building that seemed like it was for older kids.

Suddenly, the bell rang and a lot of the kids disappeared, leaving Ian wondering where he should go and what he should do. As quickly as it all happened, he found himself standing in the hallway of the hallway alone. 

Sweat began to form on his neck and he twisted and turned trying to remember which way to go.

“Shit.” he muttered and decided to pick a direction and start walking, but he didn’t think it was the right way because the drawings on the wall began to look better and the lockers taller instead of the cubbies of the younger kids.

Right as he was about to turn around, a group of kids emerged and for a split second, he felt hope that he wasn’t going to get left behind and lost in this building.

Maybe they could help him.

“Hey, where’s the--” he began.

“Lookie, what we got here.” A tall boy with blonde hair said smirking at Ian. Ian stared at him noting his ragged t-shirt and crooked teeth. The other boys with him seemed pretty on par with how the blonde haired boy seemed. They all had varying states of ragged t-shirts and frayed jeans. Ian noted that one of them looked like he hadn’t taken a shower in a few days.

He had a sinking suspicion that they weren’t going to tell him the right directions, just by the way the older boy seemed to be smiling at him. In fact, he took note of the other three kids behind him and he realized that this is what Fiona meant when she said other kids would be mean. He would’ve gulped if his mouth hadn’t gone dry.

“Hey, loser, are you lost?” the same kid asked.

Ian frowned and wondered why someone would make up such a lame name to call someone else. “No,” he said and was glad his voice didn’t shake, but he was also a little annoyed that he didn’t have a better comeback.

“You _look_ lost, freak.” A boy with brunette hair said chiming in as they came to stop in front of them.

“I’m--” Ian began, but they were interrupted by a short boy with black hair turning the corner and giving them a surprised look.

“Whatchu all doing here? You know Principle Fatty Patty is coming around the corner.” the kid with the dark hair said smirking at the older boys.

Ian stared at him not knowing why he looked so amused. He was a good head shorter than the blonde kid and yet the older boy looked really freaked out just by the site of the dark haired boy.

“Tell your brothers we’ll see them tomorrow.” One of the boys called as they skedaddled away.

The shorter kid rolled his eyes, “yeah, I’ll do that.” 

And Ian smiled slightly now that the danger seemed to have passed. “Thanks, I had a feeling they weren’t willing to help me find where my class was.”

“Yeah, you look a little small for the third grade.” 

Ian looked sheepish, “I’m in first, but I got lost.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s that way.” the kid said nodding in the direction behind him.

He nodded and jostled his bag on his shoulder. He began to walk toward the boy and then stopped right when he was at his side. He glanced down at the kid’s untied shoe and then up into his face feeling shy.

“Thanks.” 

The dark haired boy shrugged and avoided looking at Ian, “don’t mention it. Those guys are posers anyway.” And then he took off toward where the other boys had gone off to. 

Ian watched him for a minute before heading to his class.

When he arrived in the room, the teacher made a big fuss about him getting lost and all thoughts of the dark haired boy and the older boys flew out of his mind.

At least until their next encounter.

* * *

**2019**

“So uh...I’m seeing someone new.” Lip said glancing over at Ian.

Ian turned his head to look at his brother and tried to give him an encouraging smile, but the cocktail of drugs they gave him at the psych ward had made him sleepy and he was struggling to stay awake on their drive.

Apparently, they - meaning the psych ward - didn’t want to let him out, but part of the deal was he took the drugs they gave him, so he could have an early release.

The thing was he hated the way they made him feel, generally sluggish and lazy, which he’d never been before in his life. He’d told the psych ward nurses that he hated taking what they gave him time and time again, but they wouldn’t budge on changing the cocktail of drugs. Apparently, they insisted that it was what he needed to stay stable, but Ian couldn’t imagine being half comatose for the rest of his life.

He’d rather be dead.

So instead of listening to him, he was forced to feel like a walking zombie most of the time. 

For his early release, Lip and Fiona had both said they’d look after him when he got out. That was another part of the deal: regular pill dosages and full-time babysitters. But Ian didn’t want to be taken care of like a fucking child. 

He was 25 fucking years old and he felt like...he felt like he _shouldn’t here_ , in this position. He should be doing whatever the fuck 25 year olds did. 

Working 40 hours a week.

Fucking recklessly.

Spending money on fucking avocado toast or whatever.

“What’s she like?” Ian asked eventually when the silence had become too much.

“She’s...uh...you know her actually. It’s Mandy Milkovich.” Lip said sheepishly.

Ian felt his lips turn into a real genuine smile then. “Oh yeah, I remember her. She had a lot of brothers and a mean right hook if I remember correctly.”

Lip laughed a little and nodded. 

Ian watched him grip the steering wheel tighter. “Yeah, yeah, she still has the brothers and the mean right hook.”

Ian nodded, “cool. Well, if you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

“I am, I am. I mean, she can piss me off like no one else, but...yeah. I like her.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

The car fell into silence and Ian probably would’ve cared more if the Lithium wasn’t as strong as it was. Then he realized through a thick haze that she was related to Mickey Milkovich.

“Wait, she’s Mickey Milkovich’s younger sister.”

Lip looked at him a little hesitantly and then nodded, “yeah, I figured--”

“Sorry, the Lithium makes me foggy.” He said apologetically as he thought about Mickey Milkovich. 

He hadn’t said or heard that name in years. 

The last he had heard he was in prison for something Ian couldn’t exactly remember and that wasn’t completely to blame on the drug cocktail. 

He had tried to forget about Mickey after…

There were just some things that Ian had a hard time coping with and what happened back then was one of them.

And that was saying something when he’d seen and done some of the things he had, especially in the last few years. 

At one point, for a very brief period, he and Mickey had been...friends once upon a time. Not exactly best friends, but they had been on pretty good terms, but like everything in Ian’s life he had fucked it up and they pretty much avoided each other ever since. 

Because some things were easier not to deal with.

And it was easy to do when Mickey wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Besides, he had made his feelings clear and well now, here he was - 25 years old and getting out of the psych ward. 

And Mickey was in prison.

“I haven’t heard that name in awhile.” Ian said eventually because he wasn’t sure what else to say.

“I know, it’s weird, but we’re older now and shit’s different.” Lip said turning off the highway and toward their childhood house. 

“Although, you’d think as adults that we wouldn’t have to live in our childhood house.” Ian said quietly as they headed toward their neighborhood.

Lip laughed a little nervously, “well, I’m not. Fiona though--”

“What do you mean?”

“Mandy and I--”

“So you didn’t just start dating? This has been a thing for awhile?” Ian interrupted, trying to keep the accusatory tone from his voice.

Lip looked guilty as he came to a stop light. He glanced over at Ian, but he noticed he was keeping his eyes on everything but him.

“We’re uh...we’ve been living together for awhile. Six months.” he said clearing his throat.

Ian slumped back in his chair and stared out at the city he hadn’t stepped foot in, in almost two years.

“We told those people at the...institution that Fiona and I were living together to help you because, well, we wanted you out of there. It’s been almost two years, Ian, and fuck, it just seemed like our only option. But I’ll be over to help anyway I can when Fiona--”

“I’m not a fucking child, Lip. I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” Ian snapped suddenly feeling irrationally angry.

Lip began to drive as the light turned green. He turned down familiar streets as they neared the house. “I know that, I do. But it’s just...it’s just going to be a little hard right now. I get you’re dealing with shit, but Ian...we just want to help.” 

“So who does still live at the house?” Ian asked, feeling out of sorts. No matter how many times his siblings came to visit, they never mentioned anything about this and he was beginning to feel a little on edge about what he was walking into. 

Would he have to deal with strangers as he struggled to get back to living a life he wasn’t sure where to even pick up?

He’d been in that place for two fucking years and he just wanted to be around his family. But his family seemed to have moved on from him, while he was still struggling to pick up the frayed ends of his own life.

He swallowed thickly trying to keep his mind clear as he struggled to remind himself that it was all temporary and once he could show everyone he was stable, he’d be able to leave and go his own thing.

The problem was he wasn’t sure what that entailed.

“Well, Fiona, Liam, Carl...you know Frank comes and goes, but mostly has been out these past few months. Summer, you know? Debbie has been off in Europe for the last few months, you know gallivanting with whatever girl of the week she has. Oh, and Fiona’s boyfriend and their kid.” Lip rattled off.

Ian felt a twisting in his stomach as he acknowledged how different the house already felt and they weren’t even in there yet.

He hadn’t really ever met Fiona’s boyfriend, only when Fiona brought him to the psych ward to introduce them once - maybe twice when she’d gotten pregnant. They had started dating before everything had happened, but Ian was so...lost during that time he could’ve met the fucking president and not remembered.

“But the good news is that you have your own room, Fiona’s old room since she and Eric moved into Frank’s room, so there’s that.” Lip said trying to be encouraging.

Ian nodded stiffly and watched as Lip parked on the street.

“Are you ready?” Lip asked.

Ian shrugged half heartedly and then grabbed the small bag - it housed the small amount of stuff from the institution - before they went inside the house. He waited for the feeling of home to wash over him as they stepped into the house, but it wasn’t there and he felt a cold sadness settle in his stomach. 

It looked and smelled like home, but that familiarity seemed to hang at the edges and he almost considered turning around and walking outside and then in to see if he was missing something.

Lip clapped a hand on his back and smiled at him. He tried to return it, but his lips felt stiff as he walked further into the house. Fiona popped out from the kitchen with a 3 year old on her hip and kissed him on his cheek, her wide, familiar, sisterly smile on her face.

“There you are, sweetface. Took you fucking long enough, Lip.” 

Lip rolled his eyes and hugged their sister before taking their niece from her arms. “Are you already cooking?”

“There’s a lot of people coming tonight.” she said wrapping her arms around Ian. He tried to relax in her grip, but it felt strange to have someone hang all over him when he hadn’t been hugged or really touched in two years.

“Whose coming?” he asked.

“Well, the family of course, Kev and V with their kids, and Mandy.” Fiona said guiding them into the kitchen.

“Carl’s girlfriend, too.” Liam said, stepping away from the table and wrapping his arms around Ian’s front. 

He gave him a prefunctuary hug back and then Fiona and Liam stepped away both with eager looks on their faces. He looked over at Lip who was smiling encouragingly at him and he felt a little uncomfortable being watched.

He wondered if they thought he was going to do something crazy, but really he just wanted to lay down.

“Sounds like a Gallagher party.” he said, trying to live up to his old self.

Fiona smiled so wide she looked like she would cry. “I made up your bed in my old room and tried to put it together as best as I could. Lip’s going to go and fill your prescriptions, so why don’t you take a shower, maybe lay down? I know the doctors said you’d be tired for a bit as you adjusted to being back.” 

Ian hesitated as he stared at all of their earnest faces and then nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure.”

“Good, take a nap, just relax. Dinner will be ready around 6.” Fiona said and then reached forward to hug him again, “and welcome home.” she whispered into his ear before kissing him on the side of his head and getting back to cooking. 

He watched her for a minute before letting his gaze shift to Lip who was stealing pieces of apple from the cutting board. 

He turned around slowly and headed upstairs as Fiona was asking ‘how is he really doing?’ 

And he suddenly wished he was back in the psych ward because there was no one looking at him weirdly or waiting for him to do his next crazy shit.

Because he was crazy and he wasn’t really sure how to deal with that, especially now that he was out of his ‘cage.’

* * *

A few hours later he awoke wrapped around a damp towel in his bed. He blinked as the sunlight cast shadows through the previously brightly light room. It had considerably dimmed since he had been asleep and he cast a hand out to look for the old watch he had gotten back when he checked out of the institution. He cast his mind back to the last few hours as he tried to push away the fog that always came with a nap in the middle of the day on his meds. 

He had gotten out of the psych ward; he saw his family again. Now, he had the ability to wear something that wasn’t the color yellow and he’d showered in a private shower for the first time in such a long time. He picked a black t-shirt that was a little too big for him and a pair of jeans that still fit pretty well. 

Before he went to the psych ward, he was in pretty good shape. After spending time eating the shit food that was there and trying to maintain an exercise regimen, he’d lost some of his muscle tone, but hoped that with time he could regain it.

His clothes fit a little weirdly than they had before, but he figured that with time, he’d fill them out again and get the defined muscles he’d been so proud of.

He told himself he’d start running again tomorrow and he vowed to look around for his weights. He made a mental note to ask Fiona about them when she had a second.

He descended the stairs to go into the kitchen. An extra table was added and set. Carl sat at the table talking to Liam and jumped up immediately when he saw him.

“Ian!” Carl announced lunging at him.

Ian grinned at his younger brother and pulled him in close, marveling at how big he’d gotten even since the last time he’d seen him, which had only been about a month ago when Carl had taken the bus up to see him. “Hey, buddy. I can’t believe you’re already my height. I just saw you.” Ian said, laughing slightly.

He took a step back and looked over Carl who seemed to have gained some muscle with the height.

“Started working out.” he said smirking. “Chicks fuckin love it.” he added.

Ian laughed, “I’m sure. Lip said your girlfriend was coming, will we get to meet her?”

Carl shook his head and suddenly looked sullen, “no, we broke up last night.” he paused for effect, “bitch, was cheating.”

“Carl!” Fiona snapped.

He rolled his eyes, “it’s true. Anyway, I’m trying to focus on my career at the CPD. I’m trying to be a detective.”

Ian grinned, “that’s great, man.”

“What are you going to do now that you’re out?” Carl asked. “Still want to do the EMT shit?”

Ian stiffened and he sensed he wasn’t the only one when Fiona appeared right beside them with a steaming bowl of green beans and hot rolls.

“Put these on the table, Carl, please?” 

He rolled his eyes, but took the bowls from her to put down. 

Ian turned to Fiona and asked if he could help with anything.

“It’s pretty much all out. I think--” 

But she was interrupted by V and Kev walking in with their twins in tow. Ian smiled and hugged them. He went through the motions of commenting on how big the twins were getting, telling Kev and V that it was nice to see them. They apologized for not coming up more to see him, but with The Alibi...and he made predictable sounds about it all being okay. 

He was doped up most of the time anyway.

When Kev slapped him on the back and Carl launched into a story to entertain everyone about the police academy, Ian was beginning to feel that squirming in his stomach, the one that made him feel anxious being surrounded by so many people with so much going on. 

Suddenly it was too noisy and warm with this many people in the house. 

He had never been like this before, but he just felt overwhelmed, even in the company of his family. 

Fiona’s boyfriend came in through the front door with their kid on his hip. He went over to Ian and gave him a good natured grin. “We’re really excited that you’re out, Ian.” Eric said shifting Emily, the three year old, in his arms.

Ian smiled and looked down at the little girl with curly hair, like Fiona’s, but the coloring was more similar to his own.

“Hey, Em. I’m your Uncle Ian.” He said quietly, feeling much more comfortable talking to the little girl than he did Eric.

He didn’t have anything against Eric, but he was already feeling uncomfortable and focusing on a little person who didn’t have any expectations of him was much more preferred. 

“She’s starting to talk full sentences.” Eric said.

Ian looked up and saw Eric still had a nice smile on his face. He nodded, “well, if you guys need any childcare...”

He saw a flicker of discomfort in Eric’s eyes and he felt his stomach tighten at the idea of his own almost brother-in-law not even trusting him with his neice. He tried to give him another smile, but Ian had already seen through the carefully crafted mask. 

“Thanks.” Eric said uncomfortably.

Ian nodded and made an excuse to step out in need of a few minutes of air. Eric didn’t try to stop him.

He closed the door behind him and stuck a stolen cigarette in his mouth. He’d nicked it from Fiona’s pack that had been on the kitchen counter. 

As he began to smoke, he saw Lip approach the house and two other people following after him. He watched them approach as he smoked his cigarette and smirked when Lip opened the gate for one of them - the girl - before the threesome advanced forward.

“Already getting crazy in there?” Lip asked stopping right before the stairs.

Ian shrugged as his eyes rested on the girl who he now realized was Mandy Milkovich all grown up and then on the guy half hidden behind her. He couldn’t really make out his face since he had it turned toward the street, but he could see dark brown hair and could tell he was shorter.

At least, shorter than Ian.

“Do you think it’s okay if we invite one more? Fiona won’t mind, right?” Mandy asked, jerking her head at the guy behind her.

Ian realized with a jolt that Mickey Milkovich was behind her. He stared down at Mickey who was doing a good job of avoiding his gaze. As he watched him, for a split second, he thought about the last time he’d seen him, what felt like an entire other lifetime ago. But he shook that image away and smiled at Mandy. 

“I’m sure it’s fine.” he said.

Lip grinned at him, “see, I told you.”

“Mickey, this is Ian, Lip’s brother.” Mandy said, nudging her brother. “Ian, this is Mickey, my older brother.”

Mickey finally looked up at Ian. But he noticed that he seemed to study the area over Ian’s shoulder and struggled to avoid making eye contact with him. He was surprised to see that he looked pretty much the same since the last time they saw one another, which was so many years ago. 

He took in the smooth pale skin that seemed to be so much brighter against the backdrop of the twilight. His eyes were that same bright, clear blue that Ian could remember memorizing the color of. Unlike the usual expressiveness of his face, however, he seemed much more subdued and careful of his actions. Ian had gotten very used to Mickey being so emotive, but now, it was like he was a statue of the man he had known in their youth.

Those eyes pierced into Ian’s now and he felt his stomach twist into knots - something that hadn’t happened in such a long time.

Ian was used to feeling anxious, nervous, uncomfortable around people, but he didn’t feel any of those things around Mickey. What he felt was anxious in a different way, a way he hadn’t felt since before the institution. 

It was that anxious feeling you got before meeting up with someone you really liked or knowing someone you had a crush on was going to be at the same party that night.

Mickey was making him feel eager...and that was strange to Ian.

He figured it had something to do with their old history, but he wasn't entirely sure he believed that statement.

He looked away from Mickey and noticed that his hands were clenched together and Ian wondered if Mandy had dragged him along or he was here voluntary. He figured because of their past, Mickey wasn’t here because he wanted to be, but a part of Ian couldn’t help but...well, it was silly. 

He looked away from Mickey’s clenched fists and back into his face. He noticed the anger that lay under the surface and more of the sharp edges that seemed to be pretruding from just beneath Mickey’s skin. He looked ready to fight and Ian wondered how long ago he had gotten out of prison - if that fight or flight feeling was still exercising its visitation rights.

He looked away on the pretense of blowing the smoke out of their faces. “We’ve met.” he said shortly, knowing that Mickey probably wasn’t going to volunteer any information about their shared history.

“Juvie, right?” Mickey said and Ian felt his stomach drop to his toes.

“No...uh...I’ve never been to juvie.” Ian said uncomfortably.

He figured that Mickey wasn’t going to cope up to knowing him, but he didn’t think that he’d completely blow him off.

He didn't think he'd be cast off so easily, the way Mickey was doing.

Why was Mickey lying about where he knew him from anyway? He got that he didn't want to share, but Ian didn't think...he didn't even want to look at him.

It wouldn’t be too hard to put together their intersecting histories, but Ian knew that all of his siblings and probably Mandy too, weren’t eager to rehash shit from their childhoods. So he wasn’t afraid of anyone finding out, but he was also an out gay man and Mickey...well, Ian could never really figure out his deal. 

He didn’t push the issue though and just shrugged it off not wanting to make him feel any more uncomfortable than he was probably feeling. 

Instead, he watched Mickey look down the street already disinterested in talking to him.

Not that he seemed that interest in talking to him in the first place.

“Come on, I’m sure Fiona’s ready to eat by now.” Lip said walking the rest of the way up the stairs and toward the front door.

He pushed a bag into Ian’s hand and smiled at him, “You’re supposed to take your dose after dinner.”

Ian resisted rolling his eyes and just nodded as he watched everyone file in. He noted that Mickey continued to avoid looking at him and he thought again about why he was so diligent in wanting to pretend he didn't exist. 

After he finished the cigarette, he headed inside already dreading dinner, the bag of pills weighing heavily in his hand.


	2. Confronting The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey has dinner at the Gallagher's and reflects on a time when he protected Ian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has taken the time to comment, read, and kudo the story! I'm really excited for this fic since it's different than my other one. Also, I need some Gallavich to keep me going during these crazy times. 
> 
> Just a head's up there is homophobic language in this chapter and Mickey's pretty deep in the closet...that's about it. I hope I don't offend anyone. I'm a straight female, so I've never dealt with being a gay man, but I identify with not feeling comfortable in your own skin (in the most basic of ways), so I hope I can make Mickey's demons come to light in a dignified and respectable manner. Basically, I just want to keep him and Ian in character. 
> 
> I hope you guys like the chapter and thanks again for checking the story out. Please leave a comment if you are enjoying it! Any who, stay healthy and safe!

_2019_

“What do you think?”

Mickey looked up from where he was studying the material of the couch. It was a nice, smooth almost velvety cloth and he liked the way it felt underneath his fingertips.

It was the first time he felt anything that soft in years - almost five years to be exact. And even then, he didn’t really know how long it had been. It wasn’t like the Milkovich household had been overwhelming with soft and cozy items.

“It’s nice, small, but it’s not fucking prison so…” Mickey said eventually.

Mandy smiled at him and walked out of the doorway that led into the kitchen and toward him. He threw his small bag of items on the couch and sat down beside them as Mandy came to sit in the armchair that had a large brown stain on the arm of it. 

Mandy must’ve seen him looking because she smiled sheepishly. 

“Lip spilled his coffee this morning.” she supplied.

Mickey nodded and sat back against the couch as she leaned forward. “So listen, I know that...I know that you can’t go home and we’re happy to have you, but um we don’t have a lot of room, so the only place you can stay is--”

“The couch, I know.” 

“I think you’ll really like Lip--” she began.

“I didn’t like him in high school, why would I like him now.” Mickey said, rolling his eyes.

“Mick, please, for me? I know - I know this isn’t what you wanted, but...it’s better than living on the street.” she said softly.

Mickey sighed heavily, “I wasn’t really planning on living here, but for my release, they needed an address,” he paused and rubbed a hand across his face. “When I meet with my PO, they’ll be happy to know that I’m...living somewhere stable.” he said, continuing his inspection of the place.

Mandy smiled, “good, listen, I know it’s all temporary. Once you get on your feet--”

“Get on my feet.” Mickey snorted and he itched to smoke a cigarette, but his sister had been adamant about going outside to smoke and he knew she wouldn’t take kindly to him getting up and leaving the conversation so he could get his nicotine fix. “Mandy, come on, you know I’m fucked for life.”

He avoided looking at her, but he could tell that her shoulders dropped and something inside her deflated. He saw out of the corner of his eye her sudden movement to get out of the chair, but then she seemed to hesitate. 

He understood where she was coming from.

It wasn’t like hugging was a big thing in the Milkovich house, instead, the method to comfort someone was basically watching them break down.

Maybe an awkward pat on the shoulder.

It was something he still struggled with - basic intimacy - and he kinda chalked it up to something that he would never truly learn. 

It wasn’t like anyone was itching to be with him anyway, at least no one he was attracted to. And those he was attracted to...well, he felt disgusted with himself when he went down that path, so it was easier to just avoid it altogether. 

“You’ve been locked inside for five years, Mick...don’t do something to get you locked in for another five. You’re my brother, so I’m going to do what I can to look out for you, but I’m not going to watch you fuck up your life like Iggy and Colin and - and dad. Just, promise me that you’ll try?” Mandy said, focusing on the area above his head.

He blinked as her words sunk in and then he looked out the window as he spoke, “Gallagher rub off on you?” 

“His family likes talking about their feelings.”

“Gay.”

“Maybe.”

There was a beat of quiet before Mickey turned back to his sister who was picking at her fingernail polish.

“Thanks.” he said softly.

She glanced up at him and offered him a tentative smile. “You’re welcome.” She paused before taking a deep breath, “by the way, Lip’s family is having a dinner thing tonight. Do you want to come?” 

Mickey felt his stomach roll a little at the term ‘family,’ but he nodded regardless. “Sure.” he cleared his throat uncomfortably and plowed forward, “Will there be a lot of people?”

“Probably, it’s for his brother.”

“Oh?” Mickey felt his stomach drop at the mention of Lip’s brother. A distant memory - probably not as distant as he wished it was - materialized in his mind of red hair and bright green eyes that were laser focused on him. 

He wondered if she meant _that_ brother and then he felt a rising distaste for the little fluttering of something he would most definitely not call butterflies in his stomach at the mental image of pale, milky skin, red hair, and passionate eyes. 

“Yeah, his uh...his brother is coming home. He was...away for awhile.” Mandy stumbled over her words, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

Mickey nodded as he considered what she said, but he was too afraid to push her for more and see if _he_ would be there. If who she was referring to was indeed _him_ . _Firecrotch,_ who Mickey hadn’t seen since before he had been locked away.

He’d thought about _him_ often while he was locked up, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend his night over at his house. 

If he was even there. 

Which he doubted he even was.

For all Mickey knew, _he_ had moved up in life, was dating or married to some - _some guy_ , while he was struggling through life trying to adjust to his first few days out of prison.

He felt automatic jealousy rising up as he thought about Army out there living with some noname motherfucker while he just got out of prison after almost five years. How could fucking Red get the life that Mickey had - had wanted with...with…

It wasn’t fair.

But if there was one thing that Mickey had learned, it was that life wasn’t fair. And despite knowing that, he still couldn’t shake the envy of Firecrotch and some guy out there just...living all happily while Mickey struggled to just fucking live. 

Not for the first time, he wondered if he hadn’t been a South Side thug if he would’ve have the opportunity to fucking live a life he was proud of - one where he wasn’t always drapped in fear and anxiety over who would find out this secret that seemed to keep him chained to a reality he had never wanted. 

It felt like years since he’d gotten out, walked into the bright Illinois sunshine. But this was the fourth full day he had been out...and he felt more tied to a life of uncertainty than he ever had while he was in prison. 

At least in prison, it didn’t look strange when he - when he was with another inmate. Now, if he wanted...if he wanted to get his dick sucked he’d have to...but he pushed those thoughts away before they could even form.

Right now, he had to focus on getting used to being out of prison and hoping that he wouldn’t follow in his father’s footsteps to become an inmate again.

It was strange. 

A part of him almost missed the routine of knowing what to expect from a day in prison, but now that he was out of the halfway house and Mandy and Lip had agreed to take him in, he felt...like he didn’t know what to do next.

For the last almost five years, his life had been planned out for him. He’d eat breakfast before 7 am, spend the day in the laundry, eat lunch at 11, eat dinner at 5, read a chapter before bed, and lights out at 10. 

Sometimes, very rarely, he’d get an itch scratched by a fellow inmate, but he had certain rules that the... _man_ had to follow.

And if they broke those rules, they were going to have to answer to his fucking knuckles.

Possibly a shiv too.

What was difficult now that he was out was what he’d do with his time. He had no set schedule, not yet at least, and he didn’t know how to fill his day.

There was no one to tell him what to do. To some degree, that meant he was free, physically at least, but that didn’t mean he knew what path he should take for the ending he wanted. 

Over the last few days, he thought about how much easier it was when someone just _told_ him what to do, but then he thought about his years with Terry and being ordered around by COs and he knew he was better off now that he was free, physically.

Not mentally.

Never mentally.

His main focus was finding a job, which was a struggle. His PO was some do-gooder who wanted to make sure that he knew he was always there and was helping him find a job, but so far there hadn’t been much luck. Mickey figured that like his POs in the past, Larry would just end up letting him down.

It wouldn’t surprise him.

If it wasn’t for Mandy, he’d be completely alone, since neither his brothers or father wanted anything to do with him. Not even his cousins had reached out, he’d expected at least Sandy to, but…

Mickey wouldn’t have been shocked if they had tried to reach out, but Terry Milkovich ruled them all with an iron fist and had stopped them.

It was most definitely his MO, except that didn’t stop it from hurting.

Without Mandy, he’d would’ve had to stay in that halfway house. He just hoped that he wouldn’t have to stay with her and her boytoy longer than he had to. 

Which is why finding a job was imperative to getting out of there.

When he’d found out that Mandy was dating Lip Gallagher, he had almost rejected her offer of letting him stay. 

He didn’t want anything to do with any Gallagher - not after - not after what had happened between him and - and _Ian Gallagher._

A name he rarely let himself speak or think because it...it wasn’t a pleasant feeling when he thought about the ginger haired man.

It was easier to avoid the whole family, especially because Mickey didn’t know if Lip knew about him and...about what had happened all those years earlier.

Hell, Mickey didn’t even know if Red remembered.

But Mickey needed the help and his sister was the only one willing to reach out to him, so for the time being, he was stuck.

He hated relying on other people and now, this was what his life had become - hoping the people in his life would step up and help him. 

He opened his mouth to ask about the brother, against his better judgement, but then he closed it, unsure how to inquire without setting any curiosity alarms off in Mandy’s mind.

He figured it was easier to just pretend he didn’t know Red altogether, after all, Firecrotch had probably forgotten about him anyway. Mickey didn’t think there was anything too memorable about him when Ian probably had such a fucking great life with some fucker. He’d probably moved right on after - after what had happened.

Without sparing Mickey a second thought.

“How long you and Lip been together?” he asked instead.

Mandy smiled dreamily and despite the fact he never really liked Lip, he liked the look on his sister.

“Well, we’ve been living together for six months now...but I guess a year? We got together when he was--” she stopped talking, her attention diverted to her phone. She smiled that same dreamy grin and picked up the phone, walking away without so much as a backward glance.

He didn’t need her to tell him that it was Lip. He could tell just by that stupid look. He itched again for a cigarette and got up to go step out onto the balcony of the tiny apartment to have one. He tried to ignore the foreboding of having to go to the Gallagher household that night for some bizarre dinner.

The closest thing he’d ever had to a family dinner was one Christmas when he was 11 and his mother had attempted to make them a ham per Terry’s request. But she’d smoked too much meth and burnt it, which resulted in all of them getting the shit beaten out of them, moreso him for reasons he didn’t understand until he was older. 

The only other times that resembled family dinner was when they’d sat around and ate takeout or pizza rolls while filing off serial numbers on guns. 

So he had no idea what to look forward to that night.

The only thing that occupied his mind was whether _the brother_ Mandy had referred to was in fact _him_.

And if it was, what Mickey was going to do about it if he finally had to confront his past? 

* * *

Mickey felt overwhelmed the moment he walked through the door at the Gallagher’s. There seemed to be people and children everywhere. He only vaguely remembered their names, so while Mandy was dragging him along introducing him to everyone he kept thinking about the one person he did know - _Ian_.

Ian, who he had hoped that he wouldn’t - and wished he would - see. Ian, with his big eyes staring straight at him almost waiting to see what he would do - if he’d acknowledge him - in front of their siblings. 

A part of him had wanted to acknowledge Gallagher, but another part, a much more prominent one, wanted to pretend that he was just a stranger. 

It was easier that way.

While they walked up to the house, Mickey had immediately recognized the ginger haired man he had been friends with all those years earlier. While he was taller, buffer, and his hair styled differently, he could tell it was Ian Gallagher, even from a mile away.

As they got closer and closer to the house, he realized that he was going to have to either admit to knowing him or pretend he didn’t. 

He went with the easier option because he didn’t want Lip or Mandy asking any bullshit questions. At least, that’s what he told himself. It wasn’t like it would be too difficult for either sibling to figure out that their brothers had been...friends, but if he didn’t give them a reason to be interested, then they wouldn’t look into it.

The time Ian and him had spent together...well, it was a long time ago. 

And he didn’t really want to talk about that time. 

But also, it was between them and had only ever been between them; he didn’t exactly want to air that shit to the world.

It wasn’t like they were hanging at each other’s houses, their friendship had been pretty non-traditional. It was unlike anything Mickey had ever experienced, but then again he hadn’t had a lot of people who were begging to be his friends or anything like that.

Instead, as they neared the house, he avoided looking at Ian, but it was almost impossible to do so when his eyes kept darting to rest on his lips, those cheekbones, or his eyes. He had thought a lot about those eyes while he was in prison. Hell, he’d thought about those eyes before he’d gone to prison.

As he took in the subtle changes on his face, as quickly as possible so as not to get caught, he’d noticed how his face had sharpened. His eyes had lost their brightness that had always lured Mickey in. He had grown what felt like a foot, so he was much taller than Mickey. The freckles that Mickey had imagined reaching out and dragging a finger between to connect them had lightened to where you had to focus hard to even see them. 

When he walked past Gallagher, he had noticed he was now at the perfect height to move in for a k--

He pushed those thoughts away as quickly as they floated across his mind because, well, he wasn’t going to be like that anymore. He didn’t _want_ to be like that anymore. Now that he was out of prison, he didn’t _have_ to be like that anymore...but that didn’t make it any easier to shut off a part of himself.

He tried to avoid looking at Ian altogether because he didn’t like the warm sensation that seemed to wriggle itself into his stomach when their eyes accidentally connected.

He tried to ignore the feeling, but it was difficult.

He told himself that it was better to disregard the feeling because it was probably one-sided - not that he had any feelings toward another man at all - and Ian didn’t seem to really be interested in him anyway.

Everything that happened was a long time ago.

Ian’s boyfriend was probably going to pop up at any time now.

“...and this is Fiona, her boyfriend Eric, and Emily.” Mandy finished off introducing everyone and Mickey was pretty sure he’d remember only two names. 

Lip and Ian.

Probably Fiona too, since Colin had been in her grade.

“It’s nice to see you, Mickey.” Fiona said smiling in a friendly manner at him. He swallowed the comeback about how they’d met before, but figured it was easier to stay on good terms with the matriarch of the Gallaghers.

Mickey nodded and he wished he had a beer in hand, but he knew that he was going to be tested for alcohol when he saw his parole officer in two days, so he had to refrain. Instead, he dug his fingernails subtly into his hand and attempted to focus on the pain instead of how much he wanted to indulge.

“Well, I think it’s time to sit down and eat.” Fiona said and maneuvered her way around the Milkoviches to get everyone’s attention.

Mickey watched as if by magic everyone seemed to settle down when Fiona began to speak.

“Thanks for coming, everyone. I know that we’ve waited a long time for this day to happen…” she trailed off and Mickey swore he saw tears gather in her eyes. “But it’s nice to welcome Ian home.” she added and then gestured to the chairs. “Now, let’s eat.”

Everyone made a made grab for a chair and Mickey was shuffled to the end of the long, haphazard table. 

He noticed that Ian took the seat across from him, moving on the slower side. He hesitated before sitting down across from Mickey and he felt suddenly nervous by his trepidation to sit down. 

Did he not want to sit near Mickey? 

Was he upset with him for not admitting that he knew him? 

Did he smell bad?

He shook himself mentally to try to focus. He was being ridiculous that he was being so paranoid that someone he’d known years ago didn’t want to be around him. Most people he knew back then didn’t want anything to do with him. Ian not wanting to be around him was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.

Finally, everyone sat down and made a mad grab for the food. He took notice of who was around him as he waited patiently for the food to be passed. 

Ian was holding a salad bowl across from him and spooning salad onto the little black kid’s plate. The black kid was telling Ian excitedly about school and he was nodding along. Mickey glanced away from him and to his right side where Mandy was sitting whispering to Lip. He looked away wanting to give them privacy and then to the head of the table, which was on his left side. There an empty seat sat and he wondered who was supposed to sit there.

“Debbie.” 

He looked up to the owner of the voice and saw the black kid watching him. “Debbie was going to come home, but she met some French girl and said she’d be home soon.” 

Mickey tried to smile but he was pretty sure it didn’t meet his eyes, “Sounds like fun.” 

“She seems to be having a lot of that.” Fiona said from down at the other end of the table.

He wasn’t sure, but he noted a tone of disapproval.

“Where is she now?” Ian asked.

“Spain, I think. She did really want to be here, Ian.” Fiona said, trying to be encouraging.

Ian nodded and looked down at his plate. 

Mickey watched from his place across from him and he felt a sudden urge to make him feel better. His first inclination was to hug him, but he tapped that down since he wasn’t the hugging type. Also, that was way too faggy for him. 

Instead he tried to catch Ian’s eye, but the redhead was steadfastly avoiding looking at him, so instead, he looked at Ian’s hands.

But that was a mistake since he realized he’d be okay reaching across and holding his hand to wipe that forlorn look from his face.

He dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand to remind himself that, that wasn’t okay. He couldn’t - shouldn’t - wasn’t allowed... _these feelings weren’t okay_.

Ian looked up suddenly and gave a tired smile to everyone. “Well, thank you for doing this and for coming over. I’ve missed you guys.” 

Mickey frowned wondering where he had been, but didn’t want to be the one to ask since everyone else seemed to already know.

He made a mental note to ask Mandy when they got home. 

He felt a sudden pressure against his foot and looked back at Ian who was watching him carefully. It took him a moment to realize it was the pressure of his foot against his own. He didn’t feel the need to pull it back and away from Ian’s.

Even though he knew he should.

Instead, he kept it there for the rest of dinner.

As they ate, on more than one occasion, Mickey found himself cracking a smile.  
He even felt himself warming up a little to some of the Gallaghers and for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe this was okay.

After dinner, most people sat around the table, while the kids went to go play in the living room. Mickey found himself on the back porch smoking a cigarette when the back door creaked open and he expected to see his sister telling him it was time to go.

Instead it was Ian.

“Hey, mind if I join you?” Ian said softly.

“It’s your house.” Mickey said aggressively.

He tried to ignore the dip of his stomach when he saw the small smile form on Ian’s lips. To cover the small smile he felt forming at Ian’s look, he stuck his cigarette in his mouth to avoid having to say anything else.

“I thought you were in prison.” Ian said quietly.

Mickey glanced over at him and snorted meanly, “I was, until a few days ago. Sentence was up.”

Ian nodded.

“Where were you?” Mickey asked before he could stop himself.

Ian smiled wearily, “not prison.”

“Then how--”

“Psych ward.” Ian admitted.

Mickey felt something weird in him twist and he took a long drag on his cigarette as he processed that information. “What’d you do?”

“What did _you_ do?” Ian countered.

He smiled slightly and Ian offered a small smile back in return.

“When’d you get out?” Mickey asked, feeling undeniably curious.

“Today...Lip and Fiona wanted to do something nice…” Ian said quietly.

“It was nice.”

“Yeah.” 

They fell into silence and Mickey had never felt such a desire to fill it. He suddenly had a million questions he wanted to ask Ian and he was sure that those answers wouldn’t come easily. He wanted to know why he was in the psych ward. He wanted to know if he thought about him after - after what happened. He wanted to know how long he was in the psych ward for. But he was too afraid to open his mouth and ask. What if Ian didn’t remember? What if he overstepped his bounds with him?

One thing he was glad of was that he was 99% positive that Ian wasn’t seeing some guy and that made him feel slightly better. Except when he considered that maybe some asshole was waiting for Ian to get out of the psych ward. Especially if he hadn’t been in there that long and the fucker was trying to make some romantic gesture.

“I was in there for almost five years.” Mickey said, surprising himself by breaking the silence. “Four and a half, technically.” he said quietly. “But it felt like fucking forever.” he added.

Ian nodded and allowed his eyes to rest on him, “two years.”

Mickey let that sink in and somehow knew that no one - unless he was Ian’s ride or die - would wait for him, “what was the psych ward like?”

Ian let out a dry laugh and took a hit of his cigarette, “what was prison like?”

Mickey smiled sardonically, “if we keep asking questions, we’ll never get answers.”

“Maybe, but we just met after all. I try not to spill my guts to strangers.” Ian said and Mickey noticed the twinkle in his eye, which alerted him to Ian fucking with him. 

He felt too warm suddenly and anxiety flowed through him as he wondered whether Ian was actually upset about him blowing him off. He figured that Ian would be happy that he didn’t have to deal with his past. Mickey never enjoyed seeing old faces, he figured Ian would feel the same.

“It’s been awhile - I figured - well - it was a long time ago.” Mickey said uncomfortably.

“I remember you, Mickey. I don’t think anyone could forget you.” Ian said quietly.

Mickey’s eyes stayed on him and he desperately wanted to mention something from back then, but then he reminded himself that he wasn’t going to go down that path now that he was out of prison.

While in prison, he had to do what he needed to, to survive. And now that he was out, well, he had a choice and he didn’t - he couldn’t - he wasn’t allowed - men weren’t an option for him.

Even if Gallagher’s mouth looked particularly pink and plush, holding the cigarette between his lips or the way his arms flexed every time he moved, which drew Mickey’s eyes.

_Milkovich men aren’t fucking fags..._

Old words from Terry filtered across his brain and he took a step away from Ian feeling the need to get away suddenly.

“I’ll see you around, Gallagher. Tell Mandy I went back to her apartment.” Mickey said, moving to leave the porch. 

He saw Gallagher move as if to stop him, but he seemed to think better of it. He almost wished he had, but instead, he made his way back toward the shitty apartment he was going to start calling home.

* * *

_2004_

Mickey didn’t really like getting involved with shit that didn’t include him. It was one of the many rules he learned as a Milkovich - _don’t get involved unless there’s something in it for you_.

It made sense to him, but for some reason, every time he saw the redheaded boy, he felt a desire to protect him.

He remembered him from years earlier when he’d saved him from the shitheads his brother Iggy hung out with and now, years later he saw the same kid getting harassed as the new target of Kyle and Davey Yates.

He wasn’t exactly fond of spotting the redheaded boy getting harassed.

Over the years, he’d seen the kid in passing and he’d learned that he was one of those Gallagher kids. 

Colin and Iggy had told him about those Gallaghers and they told him to stay away because they were the type of South Side trash that thought they were better than everyone else. 

And yet, every time he saw the kid in passing he felt...something toward him that he wasn’t really sure what to call it.

He figured he was just soft, but he sometimes wondered if it was something else. 

The twins, Kyle and Davey Yates, were in his own grade and were - in Mickey’s twelve year old brain - dumb as shit.

During their school years, he’d seen the redhead get pushed around, but he always seemed like he was able to take care of himself, but there was something different about the Terror Twins that made him want to step up for the redheaded Gallagher. Occasionally, he’d see the kid in trouble and he always went back and forth on whether to step in. In his opinion, the kid seemed to be a magnet for attracting shitheads.

Maybe it was the fact that two people were ganging up on one that really annoyed him or maybe he just seemed too soft for his own good, but Mickey just wanted to protect him. Every day as he headed across the front lawn to find his sister and head home, he noticed that the Terror Twins headed off the redhead as he crossed the grounds to find his brother. 

When he saw the redhead getting confronted by them, he knew they weren’t going to fight fairly.

The overwhelming urge Mickey felt to intercept wasn’t so easy to ignore this time.

He could always hear them taunting him about being redheaded, looking like an alien, being dumb; it was something new every day. And every time he heard them, something in him edged closer and closer to anger that he struggled to contain. 

Finally, though, when he heard them call the redhead a ‘poor South Side piece of shit’ he couldn’t really take it anymore.

“Hey, Kyla and Diva. Why don’t you pick on someone else for a change? Leave, Red alone.” Mickey said stepping in.

He watched as Kyle and Davey looked at each other and then scowled. “It’s Kyle and Davey. We’re not fucking girls.”

Mickey snorted in response and gave him the best glare he could muster. He’d learned it from his dad when he looked at his cronies.

“What do you want Mickey?” Kyle asked, looking at him. 

Ian Gallagher, who they had pushed down, was gathering the things that had fallen from his bag.

“Why don’t you go back to whatever shitty hole you crawled out of and stay there. Stop picking on Red, here.” Mickey said, pushing Kyle back even if they were slightly taller and two of them. Suddenly, he saw the redheaded kid get up and push the other twin and he smiled slightly taking note that now he wasn’t by himself and the boy was backing him up.

He felt a flair of pride at seeing Ian Gallagher stand up for himself and he allowed a smirk to blossom on his face as they looked at the twins.

“Looks like it’s going to be a fair fight, you sure you want to get fucked up?” the redhead said glaring at them.

Mickey felt his smirk widen, “if you mess with him, you mess with me.”

The twins looked at each other, “you’re lucky, you’re a Milkovich or else we’d--”

“You’d what? Pick on someone who was smaller than you? Grow some balls, Kyla and Diva and fuck off.” 

The twins glared at him, but he noted that they didn’t have a comeback and they walked away without saying anything else.

“Thanks. They keep messing with me cause they don’t like my brother.” the redhead said looking over at him sheepishly.

“Who’s your brother?” Mickey asked knowing full well the answer.

“Lip Gallagher.”

Mickey nodded, “You a Gallagher, then?”

“Ian.”

“Mickey.”

Ian nodded, “I could’ve taken them, you know, but...well, they’re always together.”

“They don’t play fair.”

“I’ve noticed that about a few people at school.”

Mickey smiled slightly, “yeah, shit happens, I guess.” 

Ian smiled slightly and met his eyes with vigor. “I blame the hair, it makes people want to mess with me.” 

“I’m sure it doesn’t help if you’re from the South Side.” He paused and gave him a sheepish smile. “People like to mess with me too.”

Ian nodded as a brunette boy came over to them. Mickey figured that was Lip Gallagher and their time was coming to a close.

“What happened? I saw The Terror Twins over here.” the brunette boy said grabbing

Ian’s shoulder.

“Trying to jump me.” Ian said shrugging the brunette’s grip off.

He looked at Mickey and then frowned, “you helped him?”

Mickey shrugged, “he seemed like he needed it.”

The brunette frowned and looked back at Ian, “are you okay?”

“Fine.”

The brunette boy stared at Ian a minute longer and then looked at Mickey. “Well, thanks, I guess. I would’ve come to help--”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Mickey was already walking away not wanting to get anymore involved than he already seemed to be, besides he had to go meet Mandy and get home soon. His dad was going to be back and he had hinted at having to go on a run. Even though he was only twelve, he was hoping he’d get a chance to go. 

“Wait--” Ian called back, but Mickey kept walking, he had done his good deed of the day and he wasn’t really interested in getting involved with things he shouldn’t.

Especially for a Gallagher.


	3. Once Upon A Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey hang out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who read, commented, and kudoed! You guys are amazing! I'm glad you guys are liking the story. It'll be a slow burn, just a head's up! Let me know what you guys think with a comment!

_2019_

The alarm on Ian’s phone went off and he groggily reached out to shut it off. He slowly blinked as he took in the off-white ceiling of his bedroom and for the first time that week, he woke up knowing he wasn’t still in the psych ward.

For two years, he’d resided in that place. When he was court ordered to go there, it was supposed to help him, but every day he was in that place, well, all he felt there was...numb. That was probably the best way to describe it. He had his daily routine, but it just didn’t feel like he was _there_.

He felt like a shadow walking those hallways with a drag in his step and smudges of sleepless nights under his eyes as evidence.

If he hadn’t started exercising again, he probably would’ve disappeared into the white walls that he stared at day in and day out.

He’d missed out on two years of just his life in that place. It was frustrating to think

about now that he was out and not a walking zombie from all of those fucking pills. At least at home, he was able to control his life and he was starting to feel like - like a normal person again. 

Maybe not normal, but still.

A soft knock sounded on his door and he sat up in bed and called out a ‘come in.’ He already knew it was Fiona.

She smiled at him and then handed him a glass of water and the container of medication they kept in the kitchen. She’d said it was just to remind him to eat, but a part of him knew it was so she could check up on him. He knew she was just trying to help, but it was... _hard_ having your sister babysit you like you were a misbehaved child. It was almost embarrassing when she checked in to make sure he took his pills.

He knew she was just doing what she told the doctors and the courts that she would do...but still. It fucking sucked.

He took the water and the pills from her and swallowed them quickly. She gave him a weak smile and took a hesitant step into the room.

“How’re you doing? Did you sleep well?” she asked and he wondered if she seemed a little nervous.

He matched her smile and leaned against the wall. “I slept better than I have all week.” he replied, the same answer he gave her every day when she came in.

“Well, you’ve made it almost a week.” she said hopefully. 

“Yeah, no crazy shit.” he said and she looked at him with her wide doe eyes.

“Mandy’s downstairs. She came to see you.” she said quietly.

“What does she want?” 

Fiona shrugged and sighed running a hand through her hair, “I don’t know. She brought donuts. Seems to be a peace offering.” she smiled slightly, “she’s nice. Lip likes her.”

“He mentioned they’ve been living together for awhile.”

Fiona nodded, “yeah, he seems happy.”

“So do you.” Ian said thinking back to the night before when it was Fiona, Emily, Eric, Liam, and him eating dinner together. Carl was off doing whatever it was he did. 

It seemed a little more intimate, like the four of them had dinner together a lot. Ian felt almost like he was interrupting a family moment, which was ridiculous because he was part of the family. It just felt... _normal_ and afterwards, he sat in his room and stared at the wall wondering if he’d ever have that, that family moment, not one that he was born into, but one he chose. 

Sure, Fiona didn’t give birth to Liam, but she’d raised him since he was born and he was just as much her child as Emily was. 

Sometimes Ian thought of Fiona as his mother, when Monica seemed to be so abysmal to be around that he just needed to know someone cared about him.

Especially with knowing that Frank was his actual uncle and not the father he’d always thought he was.

Other times, Ian wished that Frank and Monica could _actually be parents_ and Fiona was just his big sister. 

Then that would be normal.

But Liam never really had that.

Fiona was all Liam had and now he had a father figure in Eric and a makeshift sister and an actual niece in Emily.

And there was Ian, the crazy fucking relative who lost his shit and was thrown into the psych ward to avoid prison. 

He had two years of time wasted under his belt and now he had to figure out what came next. 

He used to love thinking about his future - full of being in the army and fighting for his country.

And then when that didn’t work out, he figured he’d help all the other disadvantaged kids because they were like him growing up in a shitty place surrounded by shitty people and just needing hope to survive.

He thought he could be that hope.

That didn’t go well after...after what happened with...well, he didn’t like thinking about that.

It was the mania that made him do those things, but the memories would always be with him.

Now, he wasn’t sure what the future held.

What could he do next...probably get a job, probably pay bills, always take his meds, and learn how to live again without a routine.

Well, create a new routine.

He just didn’t know what that looked like.

He wished he could sweep together the lingering determination that seemed to have been dusted away. He wanted to try to bring that feeling forward and do something with it, but it felt almost overwhelming to do that.

“And you? Are you happy?” Fiona asked quietly, breaking the silence.

Ian shrugged, “I’m not in a psych ward and I have my health, I’m more grateful.” 

Fiona looked down at where his hand rested on the bed and he watched her hand reach forward and wrap it around his.

“Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?” she asked.

It was a new question that she’d never asked before, at least not two years ago. He figured it was because so many people came and went from the house it just seemed to be a normal question to consider.

“Sure.” he said, not wanting to tell her that he had nowhere else to be, probably wouldn’t ever have anywhere else to be.

Fiona stood up and looked down at him with a cautious smile, “I’ll tell Mandy you’ll be right down.”

He gave her a strained smile and watched her leave before he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the floor and a t-shirt. He stopped in the bathroom on the way down to greet Mandy and tried to talk himself into feeling more positive. 

_It was a new day and anything could happen._

The posters in therapists office were really fucking dumb, but that one always stayed with him.

He took the stairs down to the living room and smiled when he saw Mandy sitting there talking to Liam who was packing up his bag to head to school. He hugged his little brother before he darted out of the house and Ian sat near the window as Mandy gave him a hesitant smile.

“I’m sorry I’m here so early, but I am heading to work.” She said. 

Ian waved her off, “it’s fine. I was getting up anyway. I’m going to go for a run.”

“Is that all you’re doing today?” Mandy asked in that same hesitant voice.

Ian narrowed his eyes at her already sensing he was heading into a trap. Mandy seemed hesitant to talk to him as if she were afraid to ask him something and Ian figured it had something to do with asking for a favor.

His heartbeat quickened the smallest amount when he thought of that favor having to do something with Mickey. A part of him hoped it had something to do with him, but he was trying not to get a head of himself. 

Mickey probably wanted nothing to do with him. 

He hadn’t after the last time they’d seen each other; why would he now?

He’d been weird enough while he was at dinner on his first day home. He’d barely looked Ian in the eye, but when he had - Ian wished that he could bottle that emotional intensity.

He’d been curious to know what was going on in his head all through dinner and a small part of him wanted to push to see how he’d respond to him. He’d remembered Mickey always been bigger than life and even now, six years later he still seemed to be so.

While he seemed a bit more...watchful, Ian could see those emotions crawling to the surface, waiting to emerge at the most opportune time.

During dinner, he had been quiet, but when someone got him to laugh, Ian swore he felt butterflies in his stomach. It was so stupid because he hadn’t seen Mickey in years and he really shouldn’t be feeling something for someone who - who would never really see him the way he wished someone would.

At least, Mickey wouldn’t see him the way he had when they were younger and things were - not exactly easier but less... _heavy_.

Now, he had a fucked up brain and Mickey was struggling to get his life back after prison. And as far as Ian knew, he doubted that Mickey was an out and gay man, so that was a whole thing he wasn’t exactly interested in dipping his toes into.

No, it was easier to keep everything Mickey related at a distance.

But that didn’t stop him from enjoying those emotive eyebrows or the small, dancing smirk on his lips every time someone said something entertaining.

It made Ian crave to be in a time, long ago.

“What do you want?” he asked calmly.

She gave him a sheepish look, “I’d like...um...Mickey has been in the house for the last few...Lip and him got into...would you mind hanging with Mickey for the day?” 

Ian raised his eyebrows so high, he was sure he looked cartoonish. He knew logically that he should say no, he’d already talked himself into staying away from Mickey because it would be easier and now those plans were already swirling down the drain.

“Uh, sure, but I doubt that he wants to hang out with me.” Ian heard himself say. He tried to ignore the swooping of his stomach at the thought of spending the day with Mickey. 

_Maybe one afternoon of hanging out will be okay_.

Mandy shook her head, “he’ll be thrilled to get out of the house. Can you come over in about an hour? I’m afraid if I leave Lip and Mickey alone too long in the apartment…”

Ian smiled gently at her, “let me take a shower and have some breakfast.” 

She gave him a grateful look and got up. “It’s been fine having him there, but sometimes...he can...Mickey can be hard to get along with and Lip can be...they just clash. I want to take care of my brother, but…” She chewed on her lip as she struggled to finish her thought. 

Ian gave her a look of understanding.

He couldn’t really relate to a sibling not getting along with someone he dated - he hadn’t really dated that many guys (fucked, yes, date, no) and he doubted that at this point, they’ll be knocking down the door - but he could plainly see Mandy’s hesitation on her face.

“It’s fine. I’ll take him out for the day.” Ian said calmly, which was the complete opposite of what his heart and stomach were doing.

He felt like his heart was a jumping bean moving up and down from his stomach to his chest.

Mandy smiled again and then reached forward before thinking better of it. “Thanks, I just...I figure you guys might have a lot in common.”

“Oh?” Ian asked, his heart now pounding in his ears at her comment.

“Just with you both getting out of...places. Reacclimating. That sort of thing.” she said almost apologetically.

He shrugged and gave her a nonchalant look, “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Mandy gave him one last sheepish smile and then made her way from the house. He watched her go before hurrying into the kitchen and eating some toast - only because if he didn’t eat with his meds, he’d get sick - then darting upstairs to take a shower.

If he took longer to figure out what to wear over to Lip’s than he normally would’ve, he ignored that.

* * *

Ian knocked gently on the door of the apartment and waited for someone to open up. He heard a shout from within and then Mickey swung the door open with an annoyed look on his face. 

He blinked rapidly upon seeing Ian and then turned his head over his corner and yelled, “I’m not your fucking butler, asswipe.” He began to walk away, but Ian took a quick step inside and almost reached out a hand to stop him.

“I’m here for you actually.” Ian said sheepishly, waiting for Mickey to tell him to get out. He wasn’t entirely sure how Mickey would respond to him asking to hang out for the day.

Mickey eyed him with disinterest and then brought a thumb up to the skin above his lip to begin thumbing it.

Ian vaguely recognized it as a nervous tick and tried to squish down the anxious energy he was feeling.

_Was Mickey nervous to hang out with him?_

“I was seeing if you wanted to uh go out.” 

“Go out where?” Mickey asked suspiciously.

“Just out, walk around. You know, Mandy mentioned--”

Ian watched Mickey’s shoulders slump slightly and he gave a single nod, “right, Mandy. She, uh, tell you that I needed a friend or some shit?”

Ian smirked suddenly a weird warmth rising in his chest before he blurted out, “Not exactly, she knows you don’t do friends.” he smirked suddenly and added, “but she did say you were annoying the fuck out of Lip.”

Mickey scowled and opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off, Ian was sure, but the younger man interupted him.

“Listen, I’m bored as shit at my house trying to find a job and I bet you are too, let’s just...let’s go see how Chicago has changed while we’ve been...locked in.” Ian said, trying to keep a bubble of eagerness out of his tone.

Mickey looked away, but Ian was sure he saw a smile there, “fine. Let me get dressed.” he turned around to a bag that was in the corner and began to dig through it. As he waited, Ian began to wander around the hybrid of the kitchen, living, and dining room.

“If you want to see your brother, he’s uh in the back room.” Mickey said lifting his head up and glancing over at Ian.

Ian nodded and got up to go find Lip. Unsurprisingly, he was sitting at a desk that was shoved into the corner of the small bedroom tinkering with some metal pieces.

Last he had heard, Lip was working to get into college, despite being in his mid 20s, which made Ian proud of him after how his older brother had spent his early 20s. Fiona had told him he was going to Malcom X or some other community college in the area. She’d told him a few months ago (maybe?) right after they changed his meds, so he wasn’t exactly all there when she’d told him. 

After Karen Jackson got pregnant and he dropped out of school thinking it was his (it wasn’t), it took a few years of fucking around, alcoholism, and a brief probationary period to make Lip realize that he wanted to go back to school.

It was the only thing he liked doing - the learning.

So to see him doing something that 10 years ago was such a norm, Ian took a moment to watch his brother before he interrupted him.

“Still trying to build that laser beam?” Ian asked quietly.

Lip glanced over and smirked at him, “what are you doing here?”

“Mandy.”

“Ah, for Mickey.”

“She said--”

Lip rolled his eyes and waved a hand at him as if to say it wasn’t his fault. “Yeah, we got into it last night. Fucking...he’s fine, it’s just...he’s a difficult person.” Lip said, edgily.

“You’ve never liked him.” Ian said, careful to close the door behind him.

Lip regarded him for a moment and then nodded, “yeah, well, after what his dad did to you, I didn’t really like anyone from that family for awhile.”

“You seem to like Mandy just fine.” Ian said smirking.

Lip laughed quietly, “That was by accident. She likes to tell everyone some romantic story about how we got together, but it’s pretty fucking simple.” He shrugged slightly and set down what he was tinkering with. “AA.” he added at Ian’s questioning look.

“Figures. Aren’t you supposed to not bone people who are recovering addicts?”

Lip chuckled slightly, “Who the fucks says ‘bone’ anymore? You must really have been locked up.” 

“Locked _in_ . I was never locked _up_ , that’s for people in prison.” 

Lip shrugged, “what’s the difference?”

Ian laughed quietly, “I guess in the program I was in...not much. But I wasn’t there voluntarily.”

“But you got the help you needed.” Lip stated any kidding disappearing.

Ian wanted to roll his eyes. That’s what everyone kept saying to him; _he got the help he needed._

The doctors.

The other patients.

Even the fucking nurses.

And of course he psychiatrists.

But he wasn’t so sure. 

What he really wanted to tell Lip, but couldn’t, was that there _was_ a difference between the psych ward and prison - a big one.

When you got out, people didn’t think you were fucking crazy.

At least in prison, it was more ‘normal’ or whatever.

Now, he’d have the label of ‘crazy’ on his forehead until he died.

Who wanted to be around someone who was crazy?

He fucking wouldn’t.

How could he be expected to live a normal, life when he was crazy?

How could he be expected to love life again when he had this dark cloud hanging over him thanks to fucking genetics?

“You ready?” Mickey’s voice carried into the room and Ian gave his brother a head nod before opening the door.

“Have fun.” Lip said and Ian swore there was a twinkle in his eye.

* * *

Since there weren’t very many parks on the Southside, they took The L downtown to Grant Park where all the tourists were. It wasn’t ideal, but it was far enough from their neighborhood that Ian figured they could enjoy it a bit more than they would just walking around their own neighborhood. 

“So what did Mandy bribe you with to hang out with me?” Mickey asked as they got off the last stair from the platform and headed toward the park.

Ian glanced back at him and shook his head, “nothing. She just said you and Lip got into it.”

“Fucking shithead. No offense.” Mickey muttered.

“No, he can be, but he’s, well, he means well. Most of the time.” Ian replied.

“If you say so.” Mickey pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Ian. He took it gladly and they walked in silence as they both struggled to light them in the wind.

“Has it been weird for you? Since you got out?” Ian blurted.

Mickey glanced at him as they waited for the crosswalk to change to walk and Ian noticed how his eyes steadily moved away from him, as if he couldn’t bring himself to look into his eyes.

“Yes.” Inhale. “And no.” Exhale. “You?”

“Yes.” Inhale. Exhale. “And...it’s different. My siblings...they look at me differently. It just...feels different.” Ian admitted.

“Your siblings seems fine to me.” Mickey said almost in a dismissive manner, but Ian noted the spark of understanding that shone in his eye and he wondered what he was really trying to say.

Once upon a time, he’d realized reading Mickey was like knowing a special code and now that they were around each other again, Ian had to dust off those cobwebs to remember what was going on in his head.

The thought of it was kind of thrilling and like at dinner, he felt a part of him awaken that had laid dormant for a long time.

“It’s just...two years is a long time. People change. Things change. They move on.” Ian said taking a long drag on his cigarette.

“Yeah…” Mickey said in such a distracted way, the curiosity peaked inside of Ian.

“How is it the same?” Ian probed.

“Mandy doesn’t really change. She’s cool, but she’s just...boy crazy.” Mickey looked away at the last two words and Ian throught he saw a flush of red on his cheeks, but when he moved his head up, they were just as pale as before and Ian wondered if he was seeing things.

Or wished that he had seen the flash of a blush on the brunette’s cheeks.

“I’m thinking of going back to the halfway house.” Mickey admitted as they entered the park.

Ian looked at him sharply, “why?” 

He shrugged and tossed the butt of his cigarette in the trash before heading in the direction of the fountain.

“It’s just weird. Lip and Mandy do their own thing. I mean of course they do, but I just feel shitty being there. Like I’m in the way.” he admitted and Ian noticed the look of surprise flit across his face and he doubted that he’d meant to say that.

“I feel like that too.” Ian agreed quietly. 

At Mickey’s questioning look he said, “Fiona has a family and Carl’s doing his own thing...then Liam is busy with school and of course Lip has a whole life. It’s...it’s like stopping a game while everyone else is still playing and then picking it up later and expecting the rules to be the same.”

Mickey smiled suddenly and Ian felt blinded by how genuine and pure it seemed.

“That’s a shitty analogy, but I get what you mean. Try doing four and a half years. That shit...prison is - it’s a fucked up place. It’s fucking rough.”

Ian bit his lip as he debated if he should say what was sitting heavily in his mind. “I almost went to prison.”

Mickey barked out a note of laughter and Ian smiled at the sound. It wasn’t as genuine as the smile, but Ian could see the tiny cracks occurring in the exterior of Mickey’s shell. He knew from experience that that’s the way to get him to open up fully to him - how he could weasel his way in. 

How he had the last time.

Slowly, he was beginning to learn that Mickey code again.

The thought made his stomach warm.

“You did not.” Mickey said.

“I did.” Ian pushed back.

“Bullshit.” Mickey exclaimed, his eyes daring him to tell the truth.

“Yeah, I had an option. Psych ward or prison.” Ian said quietly. “Well, it wasn’t so much of a choice when they realized what I - what I had.”

Mickey frowned slightly and all of the genuine mirth seemed to have flowed from his body like a melted ice cube. 

Ian regretted even touching on the subject, he didn’t think he should even be getting into this. Mickey would be the first person he actively told who was outside family or the people at the institute. 

“I had a psychotic break. I’m bipolar.” Ian said after a long silence.

“Shit.” Mickey breathed.

“Yeah, I, uh, I did a lot of stupid shit. It all kinda mounted. I had a choice of three years in the psych ward or three years in prison, well, court martialed prison, but the judge - after listening to everything and the doctors and the assessment - they decided for me. Thought the psych ward could help.” Ian took a deep breath and avoided looking at Mickey, “Without Lip and Fiona, I probably would’ve had to do another year, but I was - I was doing okay and they...they said I could get out with some, um, restrictions.”

“Fuck.” Mickey breathed in that same way.

Ian continued to avoid looking at him and instead chose to focus on the blooming trees in the distance. 

“I’m going to be honest, Gallagher, I have no idea what the fuck bi - whatever the fuck it is actually means.” Mickey said, giving him a look of what Ian could only call embarrassment. “I mean I get the psychotic break, but...I don’t know anything about... _that_.” 

Ian almost smiled at his admission and then tried to explain the best way he’d learned how. “It’s like high highs followed by low lows. I have Type I which basically means I’m...I can get crazy.”

Ian watched something twitch across Mickey’s face, but he wasn’t sure what to think about it. It seemed almost... _angry_ , but he looked away not wanting to see the next emotion that played across his face, the one everyone always had.

“Drugs, prostitution, illegal carrying of ARs. I was somewhere I should not have been with things I shouldn’t have had.” Mickey admitted surprising Ian with the forthright information.

Turning to look at him, this time Ian gave him a sad smile. Something inside him soothed when he didn’t see the pity that always reflected back at him when he mentioned what had happened. At least, it had with his siblings, the doctors, other patients...but not Mickey.

He felt that warm familiarity flow through his chest and he wished he could bottle the feeling.

He was beginning to think the more he hung out with Mickey the more he’d feel it, but a small voice reminded him that he couldn’t continue being around with him.

It would only lead back down the road to heartache and Ian already knew how dark that path was.

“Typical Milkovich things, then.” Ian said teasing him.

Mickey scowled at him, but now, Ian could see through it and saw the smallest glimmer of brightness seeping through. It was probably that light gleam of purity that pushed Ian to say, “If, uh, you’re tired of Mandy and Lip’s couch. I could talk to Fiona, see if she’d be willing to help out. You’d have to pay rent, but it might be a better option.” 

Mickey stared at him for such a long time, that Ian wished he could take the words back. But then he gave him the tiniest of smiles and started walking again. “I’ll think about it.”

And Ian felt like he could breathe again.

* * *

_2004_

Ian wandered across the lunchroom looking for an empty seat. He passed table upon table upon table of rambunctious pre-teens excitedly talking about what their parents were taking them to do over the long weekend.

Ian heard clips of conversation about how a bunch of kids were going to some shitty party where there were no parents. 

At all.

And he turned his nose up at them thinking about how he never had parents - just Fiona - to look out for him.

It’s probably why he felt so far removed from all of these kids with their nice clothes and juvenile attitudes. He’d always felt like he was floating in a sea of people who never really saw him.

Even Lip seemed to fit in with these people - or at least take advantage of them.

Lately, he’d been wondering what was wrong with him, for not wanting to tag along with Lip to Julia Kulinksi’s house to play spin the bottle with all those long legged, prepubescent-chested girls that his brother always flustered himself over.

He wondered why he’d rather watch the high schoolers in ROTC during their training and indulging in sports rather than drooling over himself for girls he had no interest in.

Lip always said he just had to get a little older, but he was almost eleven and Lip had already kissed a girl by 10…

Ian finally spotted a table in the back of the cafeteria and hurried toward it before he saw the boy - Mickey - sitting there with his face turned down toward the sticky surface.

Ian hesitated before he slid into the seat at the end of the table, as far away from Mickey Milkovich as he could get.

After all, Fiona said to stay away from Milkoviches after Lip had told her what happened during the beginning of the year.

Today was the first time he’d seen him since and while Ian had largely not thought of the boy, now that he was in front of him, he wondered where he’d been for most of the school year. 

Lip had told him that the Milkoviches were too stupid and always were held back a grade, but Ian knew that wasn’t true.

Mandy was in his class and she always got all the answers right on their history and English tests.

He looked at the sullen boy noticing that he didn’t have anything in front of him, whereas Ian had a packed lunch Fiona had put together that morning before she hurried to school.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Ian asked loud enough to carry down the table.

Mickey glanced up at him with a sneer already on his face, until he saw who was talking to him.

“No.” Mickey said shortly before turning back in his seat and staring at the table in front of him.

Ian looked at him for a long moment, knowing he was lying, before shrugging and taking his sandwich out.

He frowned, feeling a strange sinking in his stomach as he stared at the large sandwich in front of him and then back at Mickey, who he was surprised to see was eyeing the sandwich with a hunger that Ian recognized.

He’d seen it in his own eyes a few weeks ago when Monica and Frank had whirled back into their lives and stolen the diligently saved money Fiona, Lip, and him had been hoping to use to pay the bills and groceries.

They’d taken all of the money and Fiona had to scramble to get some more, which wasn’t enough to feed everyone, just to pay up to keep the water and electricity from shutting off and the house taken care of.

She’d told them to make friends and steal food where they could and Ian had tried, but he hadn’t...there never seemed to be enough in a family like theirs.

“Do you want to share?” Ian asked before he could stop himself.

Mickey snorted and turned away from him, which Ian took as a ‘no’, but then he slowly slid over to sit across from him.

The redhead gave the brunette a small smile, which he didn’t return and then he handed him half his sandwich.

Ian watched him devour it hungrily and then offered him some of the chips Fiona had been able to scrounge up.

“I’m no charity case.” Mickey said around a full bite of sandwich.

“Didn’t think you were.” Ian said not entirely knowing what a charity case was. Then he gave him a knowing look, “consider it payback for helping me out a few - a few months ago when...well, the Terror Twins have left me alone since…” Ian trailed off feeling embarrassed that Mickey had come to his rescue when he could’ve handled it.

Probably.

Mickey swallowed his mouthful of food and then gave him a wolfish smile. “Got any cookies?”

Ian looked through the paperbag knowing there was only the sandwich and the chips in there, but at the bottom of the bag there was a piece of chocolate with a note in Fiona’s handwriting. 

He discretely opened the note and smiled slightly when he saw what it said.

_To share._

And he broke the bar in half and handed it to Mickey.

Mickey’s eyes lit up when he saw the chocolate and instead of wolfing it down like he had the sandwich, he picked at it slowly savouring each bite.

Ian made a mental note to grab some flowers out of old Mrs. Weisman’s yard to give to Fiona on the way home as a thanks.

For the rest of lunch, they didn’t talk much, but every day until school let out a few weeks later, they ate together, Ian sharing his lunch and Mickey whispering his gratitude with his eyes.

And Ian was starting to think there was more to these Milkoviches than he’d thought.


	4. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey celebrates one month out of prison. Ian surprises him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who is reading, commenting, and liking this story! As always, you guys are amazing and really keeping me going during this difficult time. I keep thinking things will get easier and they haven't, but at least we have Gallavich. 
> 
> Just a warning there's a lot of the F-word (not fuck) and I know that there's a warning on the story, but just another head's up. Like in the tags, Mickey is far into the closest thanks to Terry's creepy scary terribly awful homophobic ass. So just wanted to let you know again. Besides that, I hope you guys like the chapter, it's super cute if I do say so myself. Drop a comment if you feel inclined to give feedback! Thanks again for reading! Enjoy and stay healthy and safe!

_ 2019 _

“And how are you liking the job, Mr. Milkovich?”

Mickey looked up from picking at the skin around his nail to see Larry Seaver smiling at him genuinely and he tried not to sneer at him in return.

He’d had a lot of POs over the years, but never one like Larry, who seemed to sincerely want to help him. It made him less trusting of the man because he wasn’t sure when the other shoe was going to drop. The thing was, it never seemed to.

In the last month that he’d known Seaver, he seemed to only ask the questions he needed to, offer Mickey a ride home and then buy him something to eat - anything Mickey wanted, within reason, of course.

“I hate the uniform.” Mickey said, which made Larry chuckle.

“But you like the job?”

“It’s okay.”

“They seem to like you. They think you’re funny.” Larry said encouragingly.

Mickey resisted rolling his eyes. He didn’t really think he was that funny at all and he didn’t know why his coworkers thought that, other than the fact that most of them were in high school, except the two managers. 

“You seem to be doing well there, too. You’ve stopped quite a number of attempted thefts.”

“Yeah.” Mickey shrugged as if to say it wasn’t a big deal, because it wasn’t. Anyone would stop teens sneaking ugly ass rompsuits or rombers or whatever the fuck they were called into their purses. Anyone would tell drunk suburban mothers that they could face charges if they didn’t put back that ugly ass $16 necklace. 

It wasn’t rocket science.

“You may have a promotion in your future.” Larry winked at him.

Mickey stared at him and muttered a ‘huh.’ Then resisted asking when he could go.

“What else have you been doing besides working? You’ve been out a month now.” Larry said, steering the conversation toward areas that he wasn’t interested in diving into.

“Nothing much. Still living with my sister and her boyfriend…I’ve been thinking of leaving though. You know, moving out.” he nervously thumbed the area over his lip and cleared his throat. “And I’ve been...hanging out with an old friend.”

“An old friend? From where?” Larry asked curiously.

Mickey sighed heavily, “just from school. I mean, we were friends growing up and then we...some shit happened and we stopped talking.”

“What made you want to start hanging out again?” 

Mickey paused as he thought about that question. He wasn’t sure if he should devoluge that Ian had not exactly been in prison, but still ‘locked up’ or ‘locked in’ as he would say. He wasn’t even sure if he could hang out with anyone like Ian - someone who had been...in a hospital.

Mickey didn’t like saying  _ psych ward _ or thinking of Ian in that place. It just didn’t seem to match the vibrant presence of the redhead. Places like that made him think of drooling weirdos who were so zonked out of their minds that they couldn’t hold a proper conversation and Ian wasn’t like that. 

Ian was fine.

“He, uh, he just...our siblings are dating and we just reconnected, I guess. I was thinking of moving into his...they have a house and an empty room for me so...” Mickey said hesitantly.

Larry put down his pencil and looked at him with concern. “This guy, he wasn’t in prison, right? Because you can’t associate with--”

“No. He wasn’t…” Mickey chewed on his lip as Larry watched him and he resented the way the PO was looking at him in concern.

“He was in a - he was in the hospital. An...institution.” Mickey said eventually.

Larry frowned and his concern seemed to etch into every wrinkle in his face. “What--”

“He’s bipolar.”

Larry nodded suddenly understanding. “I see.”

“That’s - I can hang out - I mean--”

“ _ Yes _ , Mickey. Just be careful. I’m not sure about his circumstances, but if he was in a hospital, then he may have some...he may be erratic at times. That being said, if he’s taking his medication, then he should be fine. More importantly, you’re surrounding yourself with people who aren’t your sister or her boyfriend, so that’s good.” Larry smiled at him and then closed the file on his desk. “Is there anything else you want to share?”

Mickey hated how Larry ended their session by asking that each week. He wasn’t sure why, but the question just got on his nerves. He figured it had something to do with how open and inquisitive Larry was when all of his other POs just rushed him out and said they’d see him next Friday. 

“Not today.” Mickey said moving to gather his things and resisted asking if he could go  _ now _ . Larry reached out a hand to stop him suddenly and tried to catch his eye.

“Remember, if you need anything. I am here. I do encourage you to celebrate being out of prison for your first month. Milestones are very important, just be careful and don’t get too wild.” Larry said, giving him another genuine smile.

Mickey moved his arm out of his grasp and gave him a tight smile, “thanks, Mr. Seaver. I’ll see you next Friday.”

Larry nodded and Mickey realized that it was his way of saying he could leave. Standing up, he hurried out of the building and towards the bus. It was time for work.

* * *

Mickey really hated the uniform, he wasn’t just telling Seaver that to be funny or whatever. He hated what he had to wear for his new job, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. 

The PO had come through and gotten him the job because he figured it would be a good fit - and it was, he was good at security shit - but the merchandise the store sold...that was a different story. 

He was forced to wear fucking khakis and a purple or pink polo every day at work and he felt like a fag.

Never in a million years would he have chosen to work here, but the PO had gotten the job for him and he didn’t have much of a choice since his own efforts for finding something stable  _ and legal  _ had come up short.

He’d tried to get a job a few places and they seemed interested until they saw the FUCK U-UP knuckles and the rap sheet, so he had to put his trust in Larry and see how the security job at Old Army panned out.

But he didn’t like it.

He hated it.

And he always made sure to bring an extra pair of clothes to change into because there was no way he was walking through the Southside looking like some pansy-ass mama’s boy. Especially when there was the chance he’d run into Gallagher - the one he liked.

They had been doing that - hanging out thing a lot more lately. 

It had started with a few walks around the city and had morphed into texting each other and now they were constantly within contact of each other, which was weird because Mickey had never really invited him into his life.

In fact, Mickey was only sure he was doing it because of Mandy putting him up to it.

He wasn’t sure what she said, but he bet it was something along the lines of ‘Mickey needs a friend because he can’t make any of his own.’ 

Mickey knew Ian was a nice guy and he was probably just doing it because of that.

But that didn’t mean that Ian had to mention helping him get out of Mandy and Lip’s apartment and moving into the Gallagher household. Granted, it wasn’t a real invitation and Ian had mentioned needing to talk to Fiona about it, but it was such an Ian thing to do nevertheless. He was still waiting for Ian to bring it up again and he figured now that it had been a few weeks and he had gotten his second paycheck that maybe he could bring it up to the redhead and just see if he actually meant it. 

What he couldn’t figure out is what he wanted from Mickey. Did he only feel bad for him? Did he just want to help because that’s just Ian? Or did it have something to do from back then when they were - when they were friends or whatever as kids? 

Mickey had never been sure of how to describe Ian to him. They seemed like friends on the surface, but their relationship had always been more than he was comfortable acknowledging. It always seem to run deeper and while it made Mickey feel warm, the fact that he felt that for a man was...well, it wasn’t something he felt comfortable admitting or even thinking about.

Sure, he was fine fucking men while he was in prison, but now that he had the option to be with women, albiet the fact he didn’t feel comfortable - or sexually attracted - with them, was something he wasn’t sure how to explore. 

He knew what he was. 

And he was perpetually afraid that other people could see right through him to the inky black disgusting bits inside his core.

But that didn’t mean he was okay acknowledging those feelings or even acting on them -  _ again _ .

He’d been down that route before and it didn’t end on a good note thanks to Terry. And while Terry didn’t beat all of the...all of his attraction to men out of him when he was young, that didn’t mean he wanted Terry to ever find him in the position he’d found him in again.

Especially with Ian.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to be friends with him again or those long buried feelings Ian ignited in him began to reappear.

The whole thing confused Mickey and even though every day he vowed not to respond to the text messages Ian sent, he did.

And even though he told himself he wouldn’t go on an evening or afternoon - depending on his work schedule - walk with Gallagher, he still did. It was a nice way to get out of the house and away from Mandy and Lip. If his heart dropped a little when he was back in front of his building and had to say bye to Ian, then he tried not to acknowledge it.

The thing was, he didn’t  _ want _ to be spending all this time with Gallagher.

He just did.

It was something to do.

That’s what he told himself at least.

As he got off of work that night, he changed into his street clothes before stuffing the uniform in his backpack and checking his phone. Like he did every evening since he started his job, he had a text from Ian.

_ Meet at Alibi or The L stop near Lip and Mandy’s? _

It was sent 30 minutes ago and Mickey considered the question before typing back. 

_ The L.  _

And then headed toward the bus stop to take it to The L stop to get home. He stood at the stop smoking a cigarette and staring down at his phone wondering why Ian was taking so long to text back when it buzzed.

_ Kay. _

Mickey frowned a bit and starred at the message almost wishing that Ian would say more. But what he’d learned in the last few weeks or so of hanging out with Gallagher was that he wasn’t a big texter.

Generally, Mickey didn’t mind that, but there was a strange nervous knot in his stomach and he itched to say more, rather than wait to see him in the 30 minutes it took for him to get to the stop near Mandy and Lip’s. 

He thought about what the PO had told him that morning about celebrating his first month out of prison and he wondered if he should say something to Ian about it. He thought again about moving into the Gallagher house and considered bringing it up via text, at least so he wouldn’t have to face the humiliation of Ian changing his mind right before his eyes. 

As he hovered a thumb over the screen, the bus rolled up and he deposited his phone back into his pocket as he paid to get on. He sat down in one of the middle seats and stared at the window wondering why he was feeling so on edge tonight. 

He watched unseeingly as the bus rolled down the street and his thoughts strayed to Ian’s smiling face before he quickly tried to banish the image of Gallagher. Feelings of discomfort emerged when the warmth the image had brought him filled his body and he reminded himself yet again that Milkoviches weren’t fags.

* * *

As he entered the stop near Mandy and Lip’s, he jogged up the stairs to find Ian at the mouth of the platform waiting for him. He was smoking a cigarette and watching the passersby, which Mickey hoped meant he was looking diligently for him.

“What’s up, Firecrotch?” Mickey said wandering up to him.

Ian grinned around his cigarette and moved them a bit more to the side so they could let people move past them.

“I was thinking we could grab dinner?” Ian said, handing him his pack of cigarettes.

Mickey’s mind went back toward celebrating his first month of release and debated mentioning something to Ian again.

“Sure, Patsy’s?” he asked, knowing that if they went there, then they wouldn’t have to pay full price since Fiona owned the restaurant.

“I was thinking of somewhere else.” Ian said almost shyly.

Mickey lit the cigarette he’d taken from Ian’s pack and once it was caught, he shrugged, “sure, okay. Where were you thinking?”

“There’s a taco place that just opened. It’s a few stops on The L away.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

Ian grinned at him and Mickey detected what he thought of as excitement in his green eyes.

“How was work?” Mickey asked as they continued smoking their cigarettes before going back to The L to go to the taco place.

Ian rolled his eyes and Mickey grinned at his distaste for his job. Fiona had given him a job as a dishwasher at Patsy’s, but he knew that he hated it. 

When they were friends all those years ago, Ian had wanted to go into the army and from the vague references to that time, Ian had gone for a little bit, but it didn’t seem to go the way he’d planned. Mickey hadn’t pushed for many details because he didn’t want to make Ian uncomfortable, but he was dying to know what happened. 

He figured though, if he was going to get Ian to open up to him, then he’d have to give a little too. He just wasn’t sure what he wanted to fess up, at least what he didn’t feel completely uncomfortable telling him.

And wouldn’t remotely make him feel...too vulnerable.

“I really should find something I like.” Ian said stubbing out his cigarette and throwing it into the trash can.

Mickey smiled, understanding exactly how he felt. “You could come work at Old Army with me.”

Ian laughed and stuck his hands in his jacket pocket while he waited for Mickey to finish his cigarette. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll really want a crazy person working there.”

Mickey felt himself stiffen up at Ian’s words and without realizing what he was doing, he reached over a hand to touch him gently on the shoulder. Ian had ducked his head as the last of the words floated from his mouth and the simple touch made him raise his gaze to look at Mickey.

“You’re not any crazier than anyone else, especially who works there.” Mickey said quietly, trying to make Ian understand that there was nothing wrong with him.

Ian gave him a sad smile and then looked toward the mouth of the platform. “Speaking of Old Army...how was work?”

“Fine. Treyshawn and Donna got into it again. They are definitely hooking up and that new manager, the blonde haired one with the big nose definitely used to buy coke from Iggy.” Mickey tossed the butt of his cigarette on the ground and turned to Ian, so they could head to the taco restaurant.

Ian raised an eyebrow at him and Mickey rolled his eyes and picked up the butt before putting it into the trash.

“You’re such a soft bitch.” Mickey muttered.

Ian laughed and bumped his shoulder gently, “You wouldn’t want me to be a hard one.”

Mickey couldn't help the way his eyes trailed south as he spoke the word ‘hard’ and he mentally chided himself at where his gaze landed. He reminded himself that he shouldn’t be into  _ things  _ like that. It was wrong.

But a small voice inside of his head whispered  _ how could it be wrong when it felt so right?  _ and the thought lingered with him as they descended into the underground and headed toward the taco place Ian had picked out.

* * *

When they arrived, Ian asked for a table and they headed to a back corner in the small establishment. It was a small hole in the wall restaurant with walls painted a soft peach color with a decorative, vibrant border at the top near the ceiling. Soft latino music played over the loudspeakers and Mickey noticed that there were only a few people working in the place. 

“Drinks?” the waitress asked, coming over once they were settled.

“Beer.” Mickey said, picking up the menu.

“Just a water for me.” Ian said.

Mickey glanced at him and then over to the waitress who moved to go put their order in. He stopped her before she could leave though and changed his order to water. 

Ian and he rarely went out for food, since both of them weren’t exactly rolling in dough, but he’d noticed when they did go out, he never ordered anything to drink. Most of the time they were at Patsy’s and they didn’t serve alcohol, but even when they went to The Alibi, Ian never got anything besides water or soda. At first, he figured it was to keep the bill on the lower side, but he realized that it had something to do with his bipolar disorder. He just wasn’t exactly sure what and he was too nervous to ask him since Ian always got a dark look in his eye when the past was brought up - Mickey assumed his eyes looked the same when prison became a conversation topic.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Ian said wearily.

Mickey shrugged, “no fun drinking alone.”

“I never drink.”

“Then it’ll be good to give my liver a break. Besides, PO is testing me next week.” Mickey said, shrugging.

Ian raised an eyebrow, “how long does alcohol stay in your system?”

“No idea, but I’m not going back to prison for anything.”

Ian gave him a look of understanding then picked up his menu. Mickey watched him as he began to look through it and then glanced down at his own. 

“When did you stop drinking?” Mickey blurted out, unable to stop himself until the words were already in the open.

Ian glanced over at him from the top of his menu and seemed to hesitate at the question. “Before I went in...Lip kinda had a problem with it, so Fiona got rid of all the alcohol in the house. Now, I just don’t drink cause it fucks with my meds.”

Mickey nodded letting that sink in. “He sober now?”

“Far as I know.”

“Good.” Mickey said, thinking of Mandy.

“I was thinking we could get guacamole to split?” he said turning the conversation over to their meal. 

Mickey nodded and looked back down at the menu to figure out what to order. Just as he was deciding, the waitress came back over with their drinks and then asked for their order. Ian ordered the guacamole and two tacos for himself and then Mickey ordered two enchiladas.  When she left, he nervously began to thumb at the skin above his lip wondering if he should mention his month of freedom. As he began to get up the courage to say something, wanting to celebrate with Ian, the redhead beat him to the punch.

“I have a motive for tonight.” Ian said sitting up and looking at him nervously.

Mickey smiled slightly at how on edge Ian seemed, glad to not only be the one who was a little nervous.

“I got you a little something...and I...Mandy mentioned you’d been out for a month now and I just...well, I think it should be kinda acknowledged, I guess. I mean, it’s fucking hard getting your life back and, I just - I’m glad we’re friends. Again.” Ian muttered, his voice growing steadily more and more quiet through his speech.

Mickey looked down at the table, trying to hide the blush that was blossoming across his face. He reminded himself that another man shouldn’t make him feel like this, but it was hard to ignore how good of a  _ friend _ Ian was being to him. 

He emphasized the  _ friend _ part in his mind and tried to ignore the distant memory from long ago of what Ian’s gentle kisses felt like against his lips. Instead, he focused on what a good  _ friend _ Ian was and the importance of  _ friendship _ while he was getting his life back.

Especially after how everything had ended between the two of them so many years previously. Another memory followed the one of Ian’s kisses. One of a hospital bed, excruciating pain radiating through his body, and the desire to see Ian flashed through his mind, but he quickly pushed it away in favor of focusing on the redhead in front of him. 

Not his lips.

Not any gay feelings for him.

Not anything besides friendship.

Ian moved his hands off the table and then into his jacket pocket. He unceremoniously flung an envelope on the table and looked at Mickey with uncertainty.

“Don’t get too excited, I mean it’s all I could afford and I asked Fiona to lend me the money. I just...I think it’s important to acknowledge...this.” Ian finished and Mickey swore he heard him gulp after he’d stopped talking.

Mickey tentatively reached forward and picked up the envelope.

“It’s really not much.” Ian began to ramble again, but Mickey zoned out as he opened the lip of the envelope and two tickets to a Bon Jovi show at the Chicago Theater fell out. He felt his mouth drop open as his brain took in the two tickets and before he even knew what he was doing he looked back over at Ian who was still rambling, “...I mean they’re only nosebleeds, so we don’t have to go but--” and he got out of his seat and pulled Ian into an awkward hug. 

Ian’s head was suddenly crushed against his chest and the redhead’s arms were around his waist, right above his bottom, but instead of the awkwardness that he should’ve felt at hugging someone - he only hugged Mandy and that was on special occasions - especially in that position, he just felt happy and warm. 

He may have lingered a minute or two longer than he should’ve, but being in Ian’s arms just felt... _ right.  _ And as that thought entered his brain, he hastily pulled away and sat back in his seat, a weird combination of elation at getting to see one of his favorite bands live in concert and unease at the fact that he liked being that close to Ian - he liked it a lot.

* * *

They were halfway through dinner when Mickey began to feel a little more comfortable and the earlier feelings of disconcertment at the realization of how much he liked Ian began to dissipate. 

“Thanks again for the tickets.” Mickey blurted out again. He had said thank you again and again throughout dinner, but no one had done something so nice for him, ever.

And it was just because he survived his first month out of prison without falling into the recidivism hole. He reminded himself that Ian was only friends with him cause Mandy probably put him up to it...but this act of generosity was poking holes in that argument and he was beginning to think that maybe the redhead genuinely liked being around him. 

“It really wasn’t a big deal.” Ian said ducking his head. 

Mickey swore he saw his cheeks match his hair and he bit his lip to stop the grin that threatened to come to his lips.

“It means a lot to me.” Mickey said without thinking.

Ian glanced up at him shyly and offered an earnest smile, “the two tickets don’t have to be for us, you know. I mean, you can take - take a date if you want.”

Mickey’s stomach plummeted at the mention of the word ‘date’ and he hated that Ian’s face popped into his mind. “Yeah, well, not many girls want to date a criminal.”

Ian blinked at him and something seemed to shift across his face, but Mickey wasn’t sure what it was exactly. 

“Gi - uh, right. So, how’s everything going with the PO?” Ian asked swiftly, changing the subject to what Mickey would consider to be a pretty lame one.

“It’s...fine. Larry’s fine. He’s...nice.” Mickey paused and with his new found confidence launched forward into the topic he’d been thinking about all evening, well, besides for this first month out of prison. “Listen, I was thinking about what you said a few weeks ago. You know, about moving in or whatever. Do you think - I mean I’m working now and have money and can pay my way, so would Fiona be, like open or whatever to me moving in? Lip and Mandy are fine, but that couch is fucking my back up.” Mickey said feeling a tightening in his stomach at bringing up something he’d been thinking about more and more lately.

“I can talk to Fiona.” he said simply.

“Cool.” Mickey said and went back to his dinner.

He felt Ian’s eyes on him, but when he looked up, he was staring down at his plate, finishing his own dinner.

He opened up his mouth to continue the conversation or at least try to pry open a little more about the missing years he didn’t know about in Ian’s life, but the way Ian was picking at his meal, he wondered if now was really the best time.

* * *

_ 2008 _

Mickey hated reading. Ever since he was little and his first grade teacher had made a comment about his reading level being well below average, he never really saw the point in even trying. 

He was just another dirty Southside thuggish white boy.

Who needed reading anyway?

Instead of reading whatever shitty assignment that the teacher told them to, he just goofed off or talked back in class. Every year as his teachers read off the names on the attendance, he’d always see them hesitate when they got to his name, probably having known his brothers and had decided that he was just another idiot Milkovich. 

But the thing was, he wasn’t like his brothers.

He wasn’t like his father.

And he really fucking hated when teachers assumed he was like his family and automatically signed him away as if he was another piece of trash. Somewhere down the line, he began to realize that if they thought of him as a piece of trash than he was going to fucking act like it.

Reading was stupid.

English was dumb.

History was boring

Science wasn’t worth his time.

And even though math wasn’t as bad as the rest, why was he going to waste his energy with school when he wasn’t going anywhere? So he was slightly above average in math, that didn’t mean his teachers saw any potential or whatever they looked for in other students. He just fell to the wayside like so many other kids in the Chicago Public School system.

Which is probably how he found himself repeating the 8th grade. 

He was supposed to be two years into high school by this point - he’d had to repeat first grade since his father had beat him black and blue that year and he spent so much time in the hospital he’d missed too much school - now, he was stuck with the kids who were two years younger.

That meant he was in Mandy’s and Ian Gallagher’s year.

Or Carrot Top as he called him because he never really liked to admit that he even remotely knew someone else’s name.

And he could pretend he didn’t know Ian Gallagher, at least until they were placed in the same English class and the freckley kid sat beside him with a shy, hopeful smile.

As mean as Mickey wanted to be to him, he couldn’t bring himself to do it when Firecrotch had shared his lunch with him when they were younger for almost a year before they went to different schools. There was just something about the pure act of selflessness that sat uncomfortably in Mickey when he looked at the kid. He just didn’t want to mess with him.

He knew how poor the Gallaghers were, so to have one of them share food with him when they barely had anything was...it was probably the nicest thing anyone would ever do for him.

So yeah, being mean wasn’t really an option. 

And Mickey couldn’t bring it upon himself to act as if he didn’t know him.

Since he didn’t know how else to be, he had a difficult time even talking to Ian. He wasn’t sure how to relate to the guy because no one had been as nice as Ian had been, so he tried to avoid him because he couldn’t figure out how to be kind - he didn’t have the best examples - and he couldn’t be mean so…

Hey, he never claimed to be emotionally complex.

“...now turn to your neighbor and discuss.” the teacher said. 

Mickey hadn’t even bothered to learn her name and he only came to English, maybe half the time, so he had no clue what she was talking about.

“Did you read the book?” Ian asked earnestly, his big eyes staring at Mickey.

“Do I look like I read?” Mickey asked, glaring at him.

Ian frowned, “...yes?”

Mickey blinked, taken aback that Ian wasn’t dismissing him like so many other people did at this school. He was either looked at in fear or dismissal and finding someone who didn’t do either was...well, it was fucking weird.

“What book was it?” Mickey asked warily.

“Taming Of The Shrew.” Ian said holding up a worn book.

Mickey snorted, “what is that, Shakespeare?”

Ian’s eyes raised in unison. “Yeah.”

“So what are we supposed to be doing?”

“Discussing Act I and II.” Ian said rifling a sheet on his desk. “And some project to convert the language into, like, Facebook posts.”

Mickey snorted and looked over at the youngish teacher who was flirting with his math teacher from last year in the doorway. “How modern.”

Ian smirked and looked over at them. “I heard they’re fucking.”

Mickey laughed, “Too bad, I bet she’s a good lay and she’s slumming it with him.”

Ian’s eyebrows raised and looked over at her then back at Mickey.

“You think she would be?” Mickey asked knowing that this was the type of things boys his age were supposed to look at and think about. He wasn’t really into any of that. In fact, he’d only said it because his brothers had mentioned it the other day when they’d met him in front of the school before a drug run and had seen her walking across the lawn to the teacher parking lot. 

He was sure, if he hadn’t lost his virginity two summers ago, his brothers would probably think there was something wrong with him. He didn’t have girlfriends. He never commented on other girl’s bodies and he never felt compelled to go up and talk to girls. He’d tried to ask Karen Jackson out once, but he’d only done it on a dare from Iggy. 

He just wasn’t interested. 

Instead, he found his lingering on...on... _ men _ .

In his household, that meant there was definitely something wrong with him. 

And he knew that if his father ever found that out, then he’d kill him. There was no question to it, Milkovich men were not faggots, that was something that had been drilled into him from a small age.

It was a line that stayed with him always, especially when his eyes lingered on the male anatomy that he had no right to look at.

“Oh, I don’t - I don’t know.” Ian said ducking his head down and looking at the paper. Mickey stared at him for a moment trying to figure out why Ian was staring so intently at the school work. 

Watching his movements was almost like Mickey was trying to figure the puzzle of Ian out and some of the pieces weren’t in their proper place. He watched him for a moment longer and then looked back down at his own desk where a notebook laid open with doodles instead of notes taking up the paper.

“So did you read it?” Ian asked after a minute.

“No.”

“Do you want to--”

“Not really.” 

“Right.” Ian said and ducked back to do the assignment. 

Mickey watched him work, not even bothering to fill out the paperwork on his desk. He hadn’t read the book and had no desire to do watever stupid assignment the teacher wanted them to do. He was fine watching Gallagher work until the bell rang. Meanwhile, he wondered what was really going on in the ginger’s head and if it looked anything like what went on in his.


	5. Gaining Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey go to the Bon Jovi concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who is reading this story! I am so glad that people are enjoying it and I love the feedback in the comments and everyone who is stopping to leave a kudo. I definitely encourage you to leave comments since it helps with the inspirational process. Also to know what people think!
> 
> A few things before we go into the chapter. I was asked if I am on an updating schedule and I am! Generally, it's once a week and it's been Wednesdays. Since my other story is ending, I might change updating to Fridays. We gotta see how it goes, but a new chapter will be up next week. Also, I have no idea if the Gallagher household has a basement, so expand your disbelief. Lastly, Mickey in the closet is hard to write...so I hope I did him justice. Let me know if this chapter is OOC, I was afraid it was. I hope you guys like this chapter! Leave a comment if you'd like. Stay safe and healthy!

_ 2019 _

“Hey, Fi, you got a sec?” Ian asked as he came down to breakfast to find his sister in the kitchen making breakfast for Carl, Liam, and Emily who were sitting at the table waiting impatiently.

She glanced over at him hurriedly and then went back to scrambling the eggs that were in the pan.

“If it’s quick, I’m already running late. What’s up?” she asked as she hurried around the kitchen.

“Um...I was talking to Mickey…” he cleared his throat as he prepared to ask her the question he’d been putting off for awhile. When he’d mentioned to Mickey that he could move in here, he’d meant it, but he wasn’t 100 percent sure if Fiona would be okay with it. 

He wanted to help him, a lot if he was being honest, but Fiona owned the house and he knew she wasn’t keen on having another mouth to feed. The thing was, he knew Mickey was good for the money, so what was the issue?

The issue was that he was afraid to have him around all of the time. It was already hard enough not to reach across a table to caress his cheek or grab his hand when they grazed against each other too many times. It was difficult to ignore the way his stomach turned in excitement when Mickey texted him or agreed to meet up. 

They had been hanging out for a week now and it was becoming easier and easier to be around him; Ian wasn’t sure what to think about that, especially knowing what he did about his past.

After talking to Mickey during their dinner the other night, Ian knew he had to ask Fiona before he ended up disappointing the brunette. Ian had been serious when he asked, but he hadn’t exactly thought through the suggestion until Mickey brought it up again. Honestly, he didn’t really expect Mickey to take him up on the offer at all.

“Yeah, and?” Fiona said, making a gesture to hurry up with the spatula she was holding.

“He’s staying at Lip and Mandy’s and it’s just...would it be okay if he moved in here?” Ian spat out quickly.

Fiona stopped moving around the kitchen and looked at him in shock. “You want  _ him _ to move in  _ here _ ?”

“I mean, he can pay rent, you know help out with money and shit. I just figured...he’s sleeping on the couch, Fi.”

“And where do you expect he’ll sleep here? We only have a couch available.” Fiona asked going back to finishing the eggs and doling them out onto four separate plates. “I’m sure Mandy and Lip’s couch is probably more preferable to the beer drenched and cigarette burned one we have.”

“I’m not giving up my room.” Carl said from the table.

“Me neither.” Liam said just as quickly.

Ian sighed, “I mean, it’s just to help him get back on his feet. He just got out of prison.”

“And that’s a reason he should move in here? Ian, come on, I know you want to do something nice for your boyfriend, but--”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Ian said quickly.

Fiona looked over at him with raised eyebrows as Carl cackled from the table.

“You hang out with him all the time.” Carl said loudly.

“Is Mickey even gay? He doesn’t seem gay to me.” Liam asked in confusion.

“He’s...um...we’re not - dating.” Ian finished lamely. He felt the flush of heat dance across his skin and the prickles of sweat break out on the back of his neck.

“You’re with him all the fucking time. I swear I saw you grab his hand the last time he was over here.” Carl said, rolling his eyes.

Fiona frowned, “you asked me to borrow money to buy him tickets to a band, expensive ones at that. I don’t even do that for the father of my child.”

“We weren’t holding hands, Carl! He just - we were joking around. And yeah, I know. Thanks for that by the way. We’re just friends, though. That’s it. Not boyfriends.” Ian defended quickly.

His siblings stared at him for a moment before Fiona leaned across the counter and handed Liam and Carl’s breakfast plates to them and then she took a plate over to the table to sit beside Emily. 

“The last one’s yours to eat with your meds.” Fiona said, ripping the toast on her plate into smaller pieces to feed the toddler.

Ian sighed, grabbed the plate, then his meds from the kitchen cabinet before sitting down beside her.

“He has money. For rent.”

“Ian, if you want to help out your friend, then fine. It’s $500 for food and a room here, but I’m not sure where you’re going to stick him.” Fiona said handing the ripped pieces of toast to Emily who stuffed them into her little mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean all the rooms are taken. I’m in Frank and Monica’s old room, Liam is in Debbie’s old room, Carl has your old room, and you have where I used to sleep...do you want to share a room with him? Cause that would be--”

“What about the basement?”

Fiona laughed, “the basement that no one goes into? The basement that probably has rats and shit in it? You want to stick your friend down there?”

Ian frowned, “I mean…”

Fiona sighed, “if you want to fix it up, sure, but it might be better just sharing your room with him. I mean, if you’re comfortable with that.” 

“It’s still $500?” Ian asked hesitantly.

Fiona took a bite of her breakfast and nodded, “that’s everything included. I’d say that’s a pretty good deal to get off living on a couch and never have to see Lip and Mandy banging again.”

Ian snorted and took a bite of his own breakfast. “I’m not sure if he’d want to live with me, share a room and a - and a bed.”

Fiona shrugged, “you got any other ideas?”

“Liam and I are not sharing again.” Carl declared loudly.

Ian rolled his eyes, “I know that. I’m not asking you too.”

“Well, I guess you and your boyfriend will have to move into your room.” Carl said and smirked at him.

“He’s  _ not _ my boyfriend.” Ian argued. “And don’t call him that when he comes to live here. He’s...he doesn’t like people thinking he’s gay.”

Liam smiled slightly, “I have lots of friends at school and I’ve never wanted to share a bed with them.”

“I don’t want - I’m not - fuck you guys.” Ian grumbled.

Liam and Carl laughed and he could see out of the corner of his eye Fiona smirking to herself as she fed Emily.

“Ian, it’s fine if he moves in here, but there are two options: share your room or live in the basement. You guys can decide, but I gotta get to work.” Fiona said, glancing at her watch.

“What about cutting rent down to $400 if he shares with me?” Ian called after Fiona as she stood up and began to gather all of her things.

She hesitated and then nodded, “fine. I gotta go. Carl, you good to watch her until Eric comes home?”

Carl nodded absentmindedly already distracted with his phone.

“Okay, come on Liam, I’ll walk you to school and then--”

“You don’t have to--”

“I’m going that direction anyway. Let’s go. Bye.” Fiona said kissing all three of them on the head before she and Liam hurried out of the house.

Ian looked over at Carl and then Emily who was playing with the remains of the toast Fiona had fed her. Carl was watching him with an amused look.

“Can I be there when you tell Mickey Milkovich that you have to share a room? That you plan on sharing a bed?” Carl asked, smirking at him.

Ian scowled, “we’re not - I doubt he’ll say yes.”

Carl laughed and Ian ignored him as he finished off his breakfast and then gathered the dishes to begin cleaning up.

“Did you take your meds?” Carl called as Ian did the dishes.

“After I’m done with the dishes.”

He heard Carl sigh and then the sound of rattling behind him. He looked over and saw Carl behind him holding his pills out.

“I’m taking Emily to the park before I go to work. Take your meds.” Carl said poking him in the back with the container.

Ian took the container feeling a bit dazed at what Carl had said. “Why are you going to the park?”

Carl rolled his eyes, “to pick up chicks, duh. Emily has gotten me so much ass…” 

Ian watched as his younger brother picked up the little girl and began to grab her bag as he headed out the door. He watched as he hesitated at the door and then turned back to his older brother.

“You know, if one of my friends asked me to move into his room, it would be a hard no. I know you want to help him out and everything, but...I guess be realistic. Mickey seems to have a lot going on, like you and we don’t - we don’t want you to leave.”

Ian regarded him silently as those words sunk in. “Yeah, I know.”

“Mickey’s not straight, is he?”

Ian sighed heavily at the question because he wasn’t really sure what was going on with Mickey. If he’d been asked that question when they were younger, Ian would’ve known exactly what to say. But the female comment the other night when they were eating dinner had been weird. Also, he wasn’t completely disillusioned to think that Mickey didn’t cast him looks when he thought he wasn’t looking. He knew those looks, they were on his own face as he looked at him. But he also knew he’d never act on them and if Ian tried to, well, their friendship was too important to him for him to risk it.

Above all else though was the fact that Mickey wasn’t comfortable with even identifying as a gay man. How was Ian supposed to ask him to move in without Mickey getting uncomfortable? Especially if they would be sharing a bed. He knew he was touchy about the subject, he seemed to be more open when they were younger, but after what they had been through Ian understood why Mickey may not be as open with his sexuality as he was.

“I don’t know.” Ian said eventually.

Carl frowned and tightened his hold on the little girl. “I guess you’ll find out when you tell him.” 

Ian watched Carl turn around and leave the house, feeling nervous at the prospect of breaking the news to Mickey. Suddenly, he felt a buzzing in his pocket and for the first time since they’d started hanging out again Ian didn’t want to answer Mickey’s text.

_ You talk to Fiona? Got into it again with Lip. Mandy’s pissed. _

Ian shoved his phone back into his pocket and instead focused on taking his meds. At least that one one thing he could control.

* * *

_ 2009 _

“You know anywhere hiring?” Ian asked as he began to make his way back to the Southside. Mickey was walking with him; he’d been in class for once today. Although, Ian thought it was more to do with the fact that Sanchez owed him some money since the entire science lab he flicked frog guts at the shaking student.

Ian had watched with mild amusement until Mr. Flores came over and berated him for not working harder on the lab and looked over at Mickey with mild disapproval.

He’d spent the rest of class trying to make up the work and right as the bell rang, he’d finished it. Meanwhile, Mickey talked his ear off about ways to make Sanchez suffer for fucking him over since he hadn’t paid him back.

Ian didn’t mind being in class with Mickey. He didn’t mind working with him on projects, even though he was the one to do a majority of the work. The thing was Mickey was smart, he just didn’t apply himself and definitely didn’t like school. Sometimes when they did their math homework together, he’d surprise him by knowing exactly the right equation to implement when he hadn’t even been paying attention.

Sometimes Ian thought Mickey was as smart as Lip, at least in math, but he just didn’t have anyone pushing him like Fiona was with them. Mickey was left to his own devices and while Ian tried to be encouraging, he knew that Mickey viewed himself as  _ fucked for life.  _

“Sure? You want to run drugs with my dad?” Mickey asked sarcastically.

Ian gave him a hard look and Mickey chuckled.

“I take that as a no?”

“Your dad hates me.”

“Only cause he thinks you’re banging Mandy.”

“I don’t know why he thinks that.” Ian said rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. He hadn’t exactly told Mickey that he wasn’t attracted to women - he’d learned pretty early on that he was gay thanks to Justin Timberlake - but he’d never actually said the words outloud. 

Sometimes he thought that Fiona knew when Lip would mention something about going to a party and the big draw being girls. She’d always look at him and he’d duck his head in response because even though he was comfortable around his family and telling him that he was gay, he wasn’t ready to come out of the closet yet. He knew they’d accept him, but that didn’t mean his fear would be abated. 

They lived on the Southside and no one in their neighborhood was exactly gay friendly. He had plenty of slurs thrown at him thanks to his red hair and he wasn’t out yet, so he didn’t even want to know what people would say to him if they knew he wasn’t straight.

“I may have mentioned it.” Mickey had begun to chew on his thumb under Ian’s surprised gaze. “He kept asking why you were coming around.” he added defensively.

“Why didn’t you just tell him that we’re friends?” Ian asked in confusion.

Mickey shrugged and looked away from him. Ian knew by the tense set of his shoulders and the annoyed look in his eyes, that he wasn’t getting anything else from him when he was like that. So he let it go and told himself he’d bring it up later when Mickey was in a more forgiving mood.

They got on the bus back to the Southside and settled in the back where there were less people. Ian slid into the window seat and Mickey took the aisle. 

“So the only prospect I have for a job is to run drugs with the Milkoviches?” Ian asked bringing the conversation back to finding a job. 

He’d turned 15 the week previously and he knew that he could work for longer hours. He sounded like a much more eligible prospect at 15 rather than 14. He’d told Fiona he’d find a job, but so far he couldn’t see to find anything that would fit with his school and ROTC schedule.

“It’s  _ my _ only prospect.” Mickey said shrugging.

“Don’t you want more for your life? I mean, you have to have something you want besides being like your brothers.” Ian blurted out.

Mickey looked at him for a long moment, something in his eyes softening before he turned to look out the windows on the other side of the bus. He finally said gruffly, “don’t matter what the fuck I want. You know my future only holds late night drug runs and a long sentence in prison.”

Ian stared at him. He wished he would turn around and face him. He wanted to tell him that he deserved more,  _ he was more _ , but Mickey continued to stare out the window. “I can--”

“I’m hungry. Do you want to stop at the Kash N Grab on the way home?” Mickey asked as they neared their stop.

Ian hesitated wanting to discuss Mickey’s future prospects further, but figured that for now all he could do was listen.

“Sure, maybe they’ll be hiring.” 

They stood up as they neared the street the store sat on and pulled the line to be let off. They headed toward the Kash N Grab and Ian smiled when he saw his luck must be picking up as the Help Wanted sign hung on the door. 

As Mickey grabbed a tin of Pringles, some dip, and a few snickers bars, Ian talked to Kash’s wife who was behind the counter and tried to persuade her to hire him. She seemed hesitant, but he wouldn’t drop it until she said he could come back after school tomorrow.

As they left the store, Ian felt a little lighter at knowing he’d be bringing in some money for his family. But no matter how happy he felt about being able to bring in more money, it didn’t erase his unease about Mickey’s dismissive attitude about his future. 

It was a topic they frequently discussed - Ian always brought it up - and he hated that Mickey never saw more for himself. He made a mental note to bring it up more often, just to remind him that he was worth more than late night drug runs and prison sentences.

* * *

_ 2019 _

Ian was waiting outside of Water Tower Place where Mickey worked at Old Army. He hadn’t been there in years, maybe not since Fiona had a job working at the pretzel place and she made them meet her there after work, so she could sneak them leftovers.

He was smoking a cigarette and looking toward some high schoolers skaters when he felt someone bump his shoulder. With a ‘fuck you’ on the tip of his tongue, Ian turned around to find Mickey smirking at him holding his hand out.

“Hand over the cigarette, Firecrotch.” he said wiggling his fingers.

Ian rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep the smile from his lips. “Fuck you.” Despite that, he handed over the cigarette and continued leaning against the bench. He watched one of the skaters fall and then smirked as Mickey chuckled.

“You ready for this concert tonight?” Mickey asked and Ian bit the inside of his lip to keep the excited smile from blossoming across his lips. 

He didn’t really like Bon Jovi, if he was being honest. But since he’d given Mickey the tickets, he’d been so ecstatic to go, which made Ian much more thrilled.

Ever since they’d started hanging out again, Ian had started to feel normal again. 

Whatever that meant. 

He didn’t feel like the freaky middle brother in the Gallagher clan. He didn’t feel like the psych ward crazy who’d finally been let out of his cage. He just felt like himself when he was with Mickey and it had been a long time since he felt like that.

Maybe not since the last time they’d hung out.

While he was in the institution, he’d wondered for a long time who he was and what he wanted his life to look like when he got out of there - because it was always  _ when _ , not  _ if _ . 

He wanted to be healthier, live better, be stronger. He wanted to be happier and normal and just... _ stable _ . 

With Mickey, he felt those things. 

And the more they were together, the more Ian remembered why he’d liked him so much when they were kids. He liked the way Mickey always put on a hard front, but was always so much mushier and softer underneath than anyone would ever know. Except Ian. And Ian liked that he got to see that side of him. 

He liked the way Mickey always thumbed the area between his upper lip and nose when he was nervous about something. Or how he sometimes had over the top hand gestures when he was getting frustrated.

He liked that he  _ always _ listened to Ian, without waiting for his turn to talk. Mickey actually heard him, even if he sometimes pretended that he didn’t. 

But most importantly, he liked that Mickey made him want to live again, when he’d spent so long in that psych ward wondering if shit was even worth it.

After Monica’s suicide attempt on Thanksgiving that one year, Ian never wanted to look like that or scare his loved ones by even trying something like that. But he’d lost that thirst for life he’d had before and he definitely felt like he was going through the motions, instead of enjoying each moment.

Mickey was this light that had come back into his dark life and he just...he just felt really thankful about that.

It sucked that he could never tell him that. 

It sucked even more that Ian knew his feelings would never be reciprocated. Too much shit had transpired between them since they were kids and Ian doubted that anyone, especially Mickey, wanted to deal with someone who’d just spent years in the psych ward cause they were too crazy. 

And he knew intrinsically that it was dangerous to be having these feelings. 

He knew that.

Particularly, when Mickey made comments about girls that Ian knew he didn’t actually mean. Carl’s earlier comment was still sitting in his head swishing around as possibilities entered and exited.

He still didn’t understand why Mickey even tried to put on a front when Ian knew exactly who he was. Maybe it was to convince him that he’d changed or he was burying a part of himself. Maybe it was because of what happened to them due to Terry. It was all so fucked up that Ian had looked back to that moment many times in therapy during his required sessions with the mandated psychiatrist.

He could still feel Terry’s large meaty fists pounding into his flesh causing pain to reverberate through him. He could still hear Mickey’s screams of ‘get off of him’ and then the garbled noises he made as he choked on his blood. In the dead of night when his mind was thick with anxiety and lost in thoughts of the past, he’d remember thinking Mickey was dead.

Regardless, Ian wasn’t sure where Mickey stood, but he didn’t think he was open to even exploring anything between them. Even if Ian caught him staring on a few occasions. 

He noticed that he’d get edgy if Ian’s hand lingered too long on his shoulder or arm. Even if their fingers brushed while passing a cigarette back and forth, Mickey would take a meaningful step back from him. Ian knew that the little palpitations in his heart were a sign that nothing good could come of this, but Mickey was also the only friend he had outside of his family and he wasn’t willing to say goodbye.

Not yet at least.

Not when he made Ian want things he hadn’t wanted in so long.

He’d even begun to look up possible other jobs beside working at Patsy’s because he just felt -  _ he felt worth something _ .

He wanted to give Mickey that - even if it was just learning to accept that it was okay to be who he was.

While he knew he couldn’t hold Mickey completely accountable for that feeling, no one should be able to control his feelings like that, he did feel inspired to do better because of what Mickey had given him.

“Yeah, of course, man.” Ian said and then nodded toward Michigan Avenue. “Let’s try to find some food along the way.” 

“I could use a beer too.” Mickey said and Ian rolled his eyes when he heard the note of apology in his voice.

“This is your night, Mick. I’m just here to laugh at you when you dance.” Ian said smirking.

Mickey scowled at him and in retaliation finished off the cigarette. Ian gave him a mock look of anger and then wrapped an arm around his shoulders to steer him toward Michigan Avenue. He noted that Mickey stayed under his arm longer than he usually did before shaking him off and shoving him playfully.

Ian grinned as Mickey began to talk about his day (“fucking asshole teenagers, man. I was not that bad when I was that age” “yeah, Mick, you were”) and they headed to find something to eat before the show.

* * *

After dinner, they walked the rest of the way to the Chicago Theater and got in line behind the other stragglers. The opening act was already on, but Ian nor Mickey cared to see them. It was some no-name band that neither of them had ever even heard of. 

While they waited outside, they smoked a cigarette and talked shit about the people they’d interacted with through the night. Mickey had made them stop for a beer - or three - after dinner and now he seemed good and buzzed for the concert. Ian couldn’t stop laughing at the snarky comments he kept making.

“Hey, uh, you ever talk to Fiona?” Mickey asked and Ian watched as he began to thumb at the area above his lip.

Ian tried to keep a smile on his face, but he knew it was probably more forced because he added, “hey, man, it’s cool if--”

“Here’s the thing...she’s cool with it, but I thought - I mean...we’d have to share a room.” Ian hurried out the last part and bit the inside of his cheek as he watched a display of emotions flash through Mickey’s face. It happened too fast to tell Ian what he was thinking, but the twisting of unease in his stomach made him feel like he wasn’t going to like the direction of their conversation.

“Share a...room?” Mickey asked and his hand dropped from his face. Ian watched as he began to look for a cigarette.

“She said it’s $400 a month to share. That’s everything. We have a basement, but we have to clean it up and--”

“Would we share a bed?” Mickey interrupted sticking the cigarette in between his lips and lighting it.

Ian gulped and looked across at some of the street performers. “Uh, yeah. I’m sorry I should’ve talked--”

“I mean, if I fix up the basement, it would be cool, though, right? It would only be for a few months. I’ve slept in a tiny ass cell, so sleeping in a shared bed wouldn’t be too...bad. I mean, it’s temporary, right?” Mickey said.

Ian stared at him not sure if he was actually hearing what he was saying. “Are you--”

“I mean, it’s gay as fuck, but…” Mickey paused to inhale and exhale the cigarette and if he hadn’t been paying attention he wouldn’t have caught the little hitch of his breath when he said ‘gay.’ “It’s not like anyone needs to know.” 

Ian swallowed thickly and felt himself begin to nod, “yeah, right. I mean it’s better than the couch.”

“Yeah…” Mickey said giving him such an intense look that Ian felt his mouth go dry.

The line moved up and they fell into silence. Ian could see Mickey nervously chewing on his lip and he brought the conversation back to comfortable territory.

They had been making fun of the group of over hyped men they’d met in the bar who were hardcore Cubs fans (“they’re gonna fucking win again, man, they fucking are!”) before and Ian began to imitate them, just so he could get a smile on Mickey’s lips, but it was merely a ghost of a smile. He wondered if Mickey had more to say to him. As he thought that, Mickey opened his mouth and said, “Ian--” 

But a ticket holder asked them for their tickets and Ian, quicker to recover from the conversation, handed over their tickets. They were directed to go up and up as far as they could go. As they walked up the stairs, Ian wondered if he should ask Mickey what his deal was, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t end in a positive way. They talked little as they went up and finally as they found their seats, Ian tried to crack a joke.

“We’ll need fucking binoculars to see.” Ian said, taking his light jacket off and tossing it on the seat. 

Mickey grabbed his forearm again and Ian tried to ignore the heat that he could feel rising up on the back of his neck.

“You’re seriously cool with the room situation?” Ian blurted out as he saw Mickey open his mouth to say something.

Mickey let out a little huff, closed his mouth as if he were trying to figure out what to say next, then exclaimed, “are you not? I mean, do you not want to share or something cause you seem--

“No, no, I just…” Ian trailed off not sure how to finish that statement.

He stared at him and wished that he had the courage to ask Mickey what was going through his head. He watched as his eyes darted around and knew that now wasn’t the right time to discuss this. First of all, it was too loud in here to be having a conversation like this and secondly, he didn’t want to push his luck when he’d agreed to move in, despite the circumstances.

Ian tried for a smile, “let’s enjoy tonight, okay? We gotta celebrate.” He winced internally at the cheesiness of the statement.

Mickey laughed loudly right as the last band finished up and Ian felt himself cracking a smile at the sound. He said something, but Ian couldn’t hear him over the ending notes of the song. 

“What did you say?” Ian yelled, but Mickey waved him off as he took off his jacket and settled into his seat.

“Do you want to get a beer?” Ian asked, he wanted to get back to the easiness they had between them earlier.

“And put my life in your hands? Not a chance, Gallagher. I’m going to go get us some waters. Unless you want something else?” Mickey asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ian shook his head and Mickey got up to go down to the concession stand. He watched him go for a minute and then looked toward the stage suddenly feeling lonely. The nosebleed seats they were sitting in weren’t as crowded as the seats below, but as Ian waited for Mickey to come back, more and more people came to join them. 

A group of guys around their age piled in a few rows in front of them and he smiled when he saw two of them holding hands. A man and a woman jostled in a few seats down from where Ian and Mickey were and shared a loving kiss. 

He felt a stab of envy that they were able to show their love without any hindrance or fear. A family with three teens sat a few seats down in front of the group of guys and the husband wrapped an arm around his wife. 

Instead of feeling envy, this time Ian felt sad that he’d never have that with Mickey. How could he when Mickey denied a part of himself?

He saw the brunette trudging up the stairs from a distance and smiled slightly when he

saw the irritated look on his face and his hands full of drinks. He plopped down beside Ian and handed him a water and coke.

“Thanks.” Ian said.

Mickey nodded and launched into talking about how much of a dick the bartender was. Ian felt more at ease the more he talked and eventually the band came on to play. As each song passed, Ian watched as Mickey seemed to become more and more free. They danced as well as they could in their seats. They talked to the people around them and yelled over the music to try to hear one another. And on more than one occasion their hands brushed against each other and their fingertips lingered. Each time that happened, Ian felt his heart sore as hope blossomed in his chest that maybe tonight was it, maybe they could pick up where they had left off all those years earlier. Maybe if he made a move, Mickey wouldn’t push him away.

At one point, Ian had to lean in very close to hear what Mickey was trying to tell him to the point where he felt his lips graze against the shell of his ear. A jet of hot desire spider webbed through his body and he yearned to turn his head just an inch to capture Mickey’s lips, but he refrained, too afraid of the consequences to fulfill his aching desire.

As Bon Jovi wound down, they began to get ready to go, eager to leave before it became too crowded on the L platform. 

“Did you have a good time?” Ian asked as they left the theater.

Mickey grinned so widely, Ian thought his face would crack.

“Fuck yes. Jesus, Gallagher, that was - that was fucking something. I still can’t--” he stopped talking suddenly, his gaze directed to the theater over Ian’s shoulder.

Ian frowned at Mickey’s frozen expression and looked over his shoulder to see the two guys who had been sitting in front of them making out against the side of the theater. They were wrapped around one another, lost to everyone else but each other. Briefly, Ian imagined him and Mickey in that same position.

He smiled sadly at the conjured imagery, wishing yet again that Mickey saw him as something more than a friend - that he felt free to be himself.

He turned back to continue talking to him when he saw the discomfort and what he thought to be disgust cross his features. 

A snake of anger coiled itself in Ian’s stomach at the sight of it, wondering why Mickey, who he knew for a fact was gay - even if he didn’t want to admit it, looked so enraged because of two men making out. 

The edges of his gaze seemed to dim a bit as he focused on Mickey’s curled lip of disgust.

He opened his mouth to call him out on it when Mickey seemed to be broken from his reverie and began to walk again - much quicker.

“What the fuck?” Ian snarled before he could stop himself.

Mickey glanced at him, but ignored his question. Before Ian knew what he was doing, he grabbed his arm and turned him to face him.

“Why did you look so disgusted by them?” Ian asked and dragged him into the mouth of alleyway between two buildings, so they wouldn’t be jostled around by passerbys.

Mickey scowled, “the fuck you talkin’ about Carrot Top?”

“I saw the way you were looking at them - like - like you were fucking  _ disgusted _ or something.” Ian accused.

He wasn’t sure why he felt so angry seeing that look of disgust on Mickey’s face when he saw the two men making out. Well, he did know, but he wasn’t interested in digging into his inner thoughts and feelings when he wanted to shake Mickey until he fucking accepted himself.

“I wasn’t - what they were doing - it’s not - I mean--” Mickey stuttered, but Ian grasped his shoulders and gave him a little shake, intent on making him understand. But the gesture made Mickey’s eyes narrow at him in anger and he shook his hands off and took a step back.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Gallagher.” he snapped.

_ “I’m _ fucking gay, Mickey. You may not want to accept yourself, but I’m fine being attracted to other men. I’m fine having feelings for other men. And I sure as shit don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks, but you, Mickey,  _ I know you _ . I know what you are, so don’t judge other people for who they like when you’re too afraid to be honest with yourself.” Ian snarled allowing all of his pent up frustration to slip out from his lips. 

He hadn’t meant to say that, he hadn’t meant to push Mickey, but seeing that look of pure disgust made him...it made him beyond angry. Moments ago he wished that he and Mickey were those two guys and then to see Mickey dismiss it as if - as if it was the worst thing in the world. 

It fucking hurt.

Ian watched as Mickey’s features turned into a snarl of anger and he gave him a push backwards.

“You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what I’ve been--”

“I know better than anyone what you’ve been through. Living where we do, who your father is...I fucking know.”

Mickey pushed him again for good measure and Ian stumbled back almost tripping over his feet. Mickey moved forward and grabbed Ian’s shirt, looking him directly in the eye as he started to yell. Ian could feel flecks of spittle hitting his face, but he was too angry to move away from him, his eyes intent on staying on his to show he wasn’t afraid.

“Fuck you, Gallagher. I don’t give a fuck what you think you know. You think you know me, but you don’t know shit about how my father beat me until I could barely move after...I’ve had homophobic shit thrown at me my entire life. I’ve always been told that I’m nothing because of who I am. Do you know what it’s like for your own father to want to kill you because you’re fucking gay? Yeah, you have fucking Frank and he’s a piece of shit, but at least he doesn’t give a fuck if you like men. You tell me not to judge them, well eat your fucking words, Firecrotch cause I wasn’t disgusted by them. I was fucking jealous.” 

Ian gapped at him and watched as Mickey’s eyes widened at his declaration. He pushed back from him and began to walk away much quicker than he’d been walking before, but Ian hurried forward and grabbed his arm to stop him before he could get away.

“Don’t - don’t leave.” Ian said softly.

He watched as Mickey’s shoulders sagged and Ian moved around to face his front when it became evident that Mickey wasn’t going to move.

“I know that...I know that you’ve got shit - I mean...I’m sorry. I just - I know what it’s like to be thought of as nothing. I may not have been beaten by Frank and Monica but...you’re not nothing, Mickey. You’re...you’re incredible. You’re smart and funny and I just, I like being around you. I know you’ve got a lot of shit going on, but...it’s okay if you’re...if you don’t like women. Terry’s gone now. You’re out of prison. You can be you.”

Mickey looked away from him and toward the hustle and bustle around them of the city, so Ian couldn’t see what he was thinking. He wished that he could reach out and caress his cheek, but knew if he touched him, he’d probably snap and push him much harder this time.

“Not everyone can just spill their thoughts and feelings and shit out, you know.” Mickey said softly.

“Yeah, I know, but you can’t keep bottling everything up. No one is going to judge you. Not - not if I’m around.” Ian said so softly he wondered if Mickey even heard him.

He was fixated on Mickey’s shoulder as he spoke and when he dared to look at Mickey’s face he saw that he looked like he didn’t believe him.

“It’s okay, Mickey, really.” Ian said and he clenched his fist to keep himself from reaching forward to touch him, just to make him believe.

“No, Gallagher. It’s fucking not.” Mickey said and then he moved away from him and began to walk to the L.

Ian debated going after him again, but something in him told him to stay away. Mickey needed to be alone and while Ian wanted to help, he knew that this was his thing to figure out. Ian couldn’t make him do anything, but he would be there for when he wanted to talk, as a friend, of course, only ever as a friend.


	6. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey moves in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is up a lot earlier since I finished my last fic, so I hope you guys like it! Thank you to everyone who is reading the story! I'm so happy that you guys are enjoying it! And thank you to those who are commenting and kudoing! You guys as always are magnificent! I really appreciate it. I hope you like the new chapter! Please leave a comment if you'd like to share your feedback! I really appreciate them!
> 
> Before we go ahead, disclaimer on The Office. I love The Office, so please don't take offense, it's all poking in good fun. Also, there is some homophobic languages, so just heads up about that. It's in the tags, but just wanted to reiterate that. Also for those who may be triggered there is a reference to a sexual assault, so I just wanted to let you know before you read on.
> 
> Stay healthy and safe!

_2019_

Mickey wasn’t sure what the fuck he was thinking as he stood in the middle of Ian’s tiny ass room. He stared at the full size bed, which was perfectly made up and then toward the tiny dresser at the front of the room near the sliding door. Mickey noticed that there wasn’t anything on the dresser and all of the doors were pushed in, unlike his messy room where he left the drawers open to grab things quickly. He eyed the tiny closet where Ian had carved out half of it for him. Sighing wearily, he ran a hand over his face and then across the top of his head as the reality of the situation settled in.

When Ian had brought up moving in, he’d been gung-ho to do it, when he thought a room was involved. As Ian revealed that a room was not involved and they’d have to share… Well, Mickey wasn’t imagining this. He had figured that living in a tiny as fuck cell for almost five years would prepare him for a situation of being able to live anywhere.

Apparently, he was fucking wrong.

He’d jumped at the chance to get away from Mandy and Lip. They were terrible roommates. 

First, Lip was just loud in general and Mandy and him having sex was the material nightmares were made of. 

Second, sleeping on a couch was fucking his back up. He was sore all of the time and tight, it was beginning to fuck with his mood, which already wasn’t exactly sunshine and daisies. Thirdly, and most importantly, he was tired of feeling like he was in the way. Mandy and Lip had this stupid ritual of settling down on the couch - i.e. his temporary bed - to watch whatever the fuck show they were obsessed with that week. 

Mickey had been forced to watch a TV show called Below Deck about rich people - Mandy liked it and Lip, he was positive was just as addicted. He’d been forced to also watch The Office, which Mandy swore was the best TV show ever and Lip went along with it cause he liked the weird guy named Dean or Dwayne or whatever. Mickey, on the other hand, couldn’t stand it. He thought the one guy who was into the receptionist was a dick and the boss… God don’t even get him started on how annoying that fucker was.

But besides watching terrible TV shows while his sister and her boyfriend cuddled on the couch, he knew that they didn’t really want him around for their chill time. He tried to go out with Ian during those times, but sometimes he had to work late. This meant Mickey was caught sitting there as Mandy and Lip giggled and snuggled together and he had to pretend that he wasn’t tempted to vomit all over their sicking happiness.

It was unnatural that anyone should be that happy just sitting with someone and doing nothing he decided.

So yeah, when Ian brought up moving in, he hadn’t really thought about the logistics of it, he just thought about how he’d never have to hear Lip yell as he came or Mandy giggle at ridiculous times in the day. He was looking forward to actually just getting out, which is why he now found himself potentially - who was he kidding, he was 100% - sharing a bed with Ian Gallagher.

 _Ian Gallagher_ , who he vowed to stay away from after the beatdown his father gave him when he...when all of _that_ went down. 

_Ian Gallagher_ , who had been his first real kiss; a kiss with someone he genuinely liked and wanted.

And _the Ian Gallagher_ , who he realized a few weeks into hanging out again that he’d never actually stopped caring about.

But he couldn’t act on those feelings. 

First of all, it was wrong, no matter what Ian had told him after the Bon Jovi concert when he’d gotten all pissed off at him over nothing - well, it was nothing in Mickey’s head.

Second, he’d only fucked men in the last few years because he had no other options. He figured now that he was out of jail, maybe he could try switching to women. But the thought alone made his stomach turn sour. 

After he got out of prison, one of the first nights he’d picked up some chick at some bar he couldn’t even remember. They’d ended up in the bathroom of the bar and it was fucking uncomfortable. He’d ended up finishing himself off into his hand as she went to find some other guy to bang. He figured that he could just turn it off and on, but that’s not how it worked. 

The bottom line was that he knew he didn’t like women, but… _Fuck_ , Terry had fucked him up and he would forever fucking hate him for that.

_Milkovich men aren’t fags..._

Suddenly, Mickey felt like punching something, so he dropped his garbage bag of shit and turned to leave the room as the wave of anger overcame him. He didn’t want to punch the Gallagher walls before he even had unpacked, he doubted Ian would be happy about that. He figured going for a walk would help him blow off some steam. Or head to The Alibi and drink away his issues.

“What do you think?” Ian appeared right as Mickey began to head down the steps into the kitchen. Gallagher had come out of the bathroom with a dopey smile on his face when he saw the brunette and Mickey tried to push the anger away, so he wouldn’t snap at him.

“You snore?” 

Ian shook his head, the dopey smile falling from his features. Mickey wondered if there was something on his face that showed the anger he was feeling.

“No.” Ian said almost shyly.

Mickey tried to smile, “then we’ll be cool.” He continued his way down the stairs and greeted Liam who was in the kitchen with his homework spread across the table. Liam looked up at him and offered a smile before going back to his homework.

“You like your new room?” Liam called making Mickey stop just as he had one foot out the door. He glanced over at the youngest Gallagher and gave him a tight lipped smile.

“Better than a couch.” He left the house then and he swore he heard Liam say, “I bet,” as he closed the door.

He went out into the Gallagher backyard and then began walking down the dusty alleyway that connected to all of the back house. He dug through his pockets for a cigarette and found his pack with one last stick in it. He toyed with it, debating if he wanted to smoke the last one and then decided that fuck it, he needed it more than he didn’t want it. Sticking his last cigarette in his mouth, he began to walk down the alleyway, eager to clear his head.

* * *

_2009_

Mickey sort’ve hated that Ian was working all the time now. He got that it was important, obviously. He needed the money to feed the million mouths that lived in his house, but he missed hanging out with him. He used to have time for him and now he was always at the Kash N Grab. Sometimes he’d go to visit him, but that Kash guy creeped him out, always staring at him or Ian, so he stopped coming around as often.

However, on this Thursday, he knew Ian was working and he needed to grab some snacks anyway since he had a late night ahead of him filing off serial numbers on guns. Since he was the youngest, he had been ordered to pick up something to eat and he figured it was as good of an excuse as any to stop at the Kash N Grab.

He pushed open the door and frowned when he saw that no one was at the cash register. He heard a loud noise as if a box fell down and then the scattering of cans across the floor. 

“Ow!” A voice exclaimed.

Mickey moved to where he thought the voice came from and blinked rapidly taking in the site before him as he tried to put two and two together. 

Gallagher laid on the floor, the cans from the fallen box were surrounding him and his hands were pressed to his crotch. His legs were slightly curled up as if someone had hit him or tried to grab them down there. 

An irrational surge of anger welled up within Mickey as he stared at Ian and then looked over at Kash who was on the floor a few feet away, his body tangled up in the half empty cardboard box. 

Both dark brown and green eyes settled on him with varying emotions on both of their faces. At first, Mickey focused on Ian’s open features, the wide, green eyes that reflected fear and anxiety. Then he looked at Kash, who looked like he had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Mickey felt a strange realization surge in his stomach, but it couldn’t puncture through the anger so the first thing he said was, “what the fuck?”

“It’s not - I mean, I was trying to help, Ian.” Kash stuttered out.

Mickey stared at him as he tried to gather himself together and get off the floor. As Kash moved off the floor, Mickey saw the tent in his pants. He moved forward to grab the front of his shirt to haul him the rest of the way up and then push him into the shelf behind him, which caused some more cans to be knocked down, but Mickey was too angry to realize it.

“The fuck you doing, towel-head?” Mickey snarled, shaking him a little. His lip curled in disgust as he saw Kash shutter beneath his gaze. He wanted to laugh if it wasn’t so pathetic for a 35 year old man to cower at a teenager.

“Nothing - it was an accident.” Kash said looking over Mickey’s shoulder at Ian. Mickey grabbed his face and turned him back to look at him. He squeezed his cheeks between his hand and made sure to dig his fingernails into the fleshy brown skin.

“Mickey, it’s okay. I’m okay.” Ian said from behind him, “nothing happened. I - I’m okay.” 

But Mickey could still hear the shaking in his voice and he knew that something had happened, something bad had happened before he walked into the store. He could tell by the look in Ian’s eyes. He could see the guilt and discomfort in Kash’s and it just made him feel angrier that Ian was standing up for this man when something had obviously happened.

“Come on, Gallagher. Let’s go.” Mickey said, pushing Kash away so he slumped against the shelf. He looked over at Ian who was slowly getting off the floor. 

“And fucking pay him for the rest of the day.” He demanded. 

Kash hesitated, which made him even angrier. He didn’t think about what he was doing, just let the anger dictate his actions as he aimed a well meaning punch to Kash’s face and heard the satisfying crunch of bone beneath his fingers. He knew Ian would probably be pissed that he’d just punched his boss, but Mickey had no intention of letting him go back to working for a pervert.

“Pay him for the rest of the day now.” Mickey said watching the blood poor from his nose.

Kash didn’t need to be told again as he rounded the cash register and began to pull some 20s out of it. Mickey looked over at Ian who was leaning against the shelf behind him and seemed to be okay, until he noticed how he was clutching his hands in fists and the way he was gnawing on his lip.

“Grab your shit.” Mickey said and that seemed to shake Ian back to the present as he disappeared into the back of the store and came out with his winter coat and school bag. Mickey watched as he slowly took off the apron put it on the counter and then pocketed the 20s that Kash had placed down beside the apron. He noted that Ian didn’t look at Kash as they left the store together and began to walk toward their houses.

“What the fuck was that?” Mickey asked angrily when they were a block away and he felt comfortable enough to speak without yelling.

He watched Ian look away from him ashamed, but something in him softened as he saw his friends eyes turn a little glossy. He knew Ian was a tough guy, but he also knew that he wanted to always see the best in people and when they turned against him, well, it cut him deeper than it would Mickey. 

Mickey always assumed the worst and Ian always hoped for the best. 

So when Ian was hurt by someone, it made Mickey even more angry that someone would dare to cause him pain.

“He, uh, I mean...he’s been making advances toward me for a few weeks now.” Ian said after a long silence. 

Mickey stopped walking feeling shocked at the influx of information. 

“You gay?” Mickey blurted out loudly.

Ian blushed so brightly that he matched his hair and then he looked around furtively. But Mickey noticed that he wasn’t rushing to deny it. 

“It’s not - I mean...yeah, I guess, I am.” Ian said finally after struggling to find the right words.

Mickey stared at him as he fought to get ahold of his feelings. He immediately felt elation. _Ian Gallagher was gay_...and while Mickey had never really looked closely at the fact he wasn’t as keen as his brothers about pussy, he did understand that the lingering looks he cast toward the redhead or men in general was a sign that he was something his father had never wanted for a son. 

He’d never admitted it outloud what he was. He had no intention to. Not after the sermons of hate Terry spit out on a daily basis. Not with the way his brothers would react if they found out he liked dick. And surely, not the death sentence he knew would await him if Terry found him ever indulging in the many fantasies that flitted through his head.

The thing was for awhile he knew that he had a crush on Gallagher, but he’d never wanted to think about it. 

Why would he when Ian wouldn’t return his feelings?

Why would he when he knew he’d never act on them?

And why would he when he knew that Ian would never see him as anything but a friend?

There was nothing about him that clued in Mickey that he was gay, but there were flashes of moments when he wished he was, not just because he wanted him, but because he’d have someone who truly understood what it was like to be a gay man in the South Side of Chicago.

When he was 8 years old, his brothers had discovered the word faggot and for an entire year had used it indiscriminately. They’d tossed it around carelessly and with enthusiasm. After one particularly bad beating a few months after his mother died - Terry was feeling particularly sentimental - Mickey had finally discovered what it meant when his father called him that repeatedly. 

It took another few years for him to realize that Terry knew back then what his son was. At least, that’s what he thought since Terry didn’t call any of his brothers that word. And since then, Mickey had tried to eliminate it from his system, like finally taking a shit after being backed up for days. He thought it would be easy to just fuck girls and pretend that he was straight. 

And then Ian Gallagher told him that he was gay and while the elation at that fact faded a bit, he felt jealousy that he could be so open about it and not afraid that something bad would happen to him.

The jealousy transformed to fear for his friend and then finally landed on anger again that Kash would try to take advantage of a fifteen year old boy.

“It’s okay if you - I mean…” Ian trailed off and began to toy with the sleeves of his jacket.

“I’m just surprised.” Mickey said, hating that his voice was hoarse.

Ian gave him a small smile and looked down at his shoes as if he were embarrassed. In that moment, Mickey wanted to make sure that Ian didn’t think that he was disgusted by him or didn’t want to be his friend cause he was gay. While Mickey didn’t feel comfortable telling Ian his own secret - he couldn’t even say the words, honestly, even thinking them were difficult - he didn’t want Ian to think any less of himself or their friendship because he was letting him in on his secret.

“What happened with Kash?” Mickey asked and leaned forward to plant a hand on his shoulder.

Ian looked up at the contact and then at Mickey with surprise. “I told you. He’s been coming on to me for awhile. I wasn’t into it. I mean, he’s like 35 and married… I was restocking the beans and he came over to talk to me. All of a sudden he reached for my dick and then you came in and I pushed him away. It happened really fast.” he said quietly.

The rage Mickey had thought was gone manifested itself again and he felt the need to go back and beat the shit out of Kash. He made a mental note to get his brothers on board with the idea to make sure that he suffered.

“You gonna go back there?” Mickey demanded to know.

Ian sighed and began to start walking again. “We need the money.”

“You shouldn’t go back.”

Ian laughed humorlessly and looked at Mickey. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I’ll find you a job.” Mickey paused and saw Ian opening his mouth probably to say something about working for his dad, so he hurried along and said, “Not for Terry. Something else.”

Ian nodded slowly, “you don’t gotta--”

“You shouldn’t go back there.” Mickey snapped and that seemed to quiet Gallagher as they neared his house. 

“About the gay stu--” Ian began, but Mickey shook his head quickly and touched his shoulder again, which made Ian look at him with his big saucer green eyes.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re cool, whatever happens.” Mickey said stopping in front of the Gallagher residence.

Ian gave him a wide smile and too quickly he reached forward, hugged Mickey close, and then hurried into the house, all within a blink. 

Mickey walked the short way home with a blinding smile on his lips and a fire burning in his chest.

* * *

_2019_

When Mickey got back to the Gallagher household, it was unnaturally quiet. It was the middle of the afternoon, so he wasn’t sure where everyone had gone, but he’d take the silence. Hurrying back up the stairs, he found his stuff was right where he’d left it, garbage bag and all dropped on the floor. 

He sighed and began to unpack his stuff feeling a little more at ease about the situation.

During his walk, he gave himself a pep talk. While he didn’t think Ian understood what he was going through, he did know that he was right.

He was out of prison.

His dad wasn’t in his life.

He was surrounded by people who weren’t homophobic, obviously, if the way they treated Ian was any indication.

He knew he wasn’t attracted to women, so why even bother pretending. He’d tried that when he got out of prison and it wasn’t a performance he wanted to repeat. He had gotten so used to his role as a pretend straight man he’d even let it slip while hanging out with Gallagher, even though they both know that’s not true. 

Sometimes it was all easier to say and pretend, until reality sunk in at least.

He thought back to how he was when he was younger, when he and Ian had been friends as teenagers. When Ian had told him he was gay, Mickey had felt for the first time that someone actually _got it_. 

But after the shit when his dad found them together and he ended up in the hospital, he knew that no one would ever accept him for who he really was. That idea was hammered even further into his head when Ian had just disappeared. Never came to visit. Never fucking asked how he was. Never fucking called or even wrote; it was just silent. 

He’d not only had the shit beaten out of him until he was within an inch of his life. He wasn’t sure what had happened when he lost consciousness, but he knew that if his dad hadn’t stopped or someone had stopped his dad or without the ambulance getting there when it did, he would’ve been dead. 

His doctors told him that repeatedly. 

Not only had he almost died because of who he was, what he was, but he lost the single most important person in his life. He’d been tossed away as if he were nothing by Ian Gallagher. As if Ian didn’t want anything to do with him.

He’s tried to convince himself that Terry had threatened Ian if he came to see Mickey, but he knew that if his father was going to threaten anyone, it would be him. He didn’t give a shit about Ian, he gave a shit about how Mickey presented himself to the outside world. If any of Terry’s kids showed weakness or vulnerability, then his enemies would think the paternal Milkovich were those things. Mickey didn’t understand the way his father’s mind worked, but he did know he didn’t want to get on his bad side.

And being gay perpetually put him on his bad side.

The hurt of losing Ian as a friend, as a potential partner, as a confidant was worse than the pain of any of the operations or the broken ribs or the concussion headaches he had to endure. 

“Where’d you go?” Ian asked, interrupting Mickey’s dark thoughts.

“Just for a walk.” Mickey said shortly.

“Well, I was thinking of getting pizzas for dinner. Fiona and Eric are out tonight, so I said I’d watch Emily and Carl has a date, I think, so it’s just the four of us. Do you still like jalapenos on your pizza or do you want to get something else?” Ian asked.

Mickey fiddled with the shirt that was in his hand as he considered the question. “Jalapenos are fine. You still like nasty ass pineapples on your pizza?”

Ian grinned, “yep, with olives.”

Mickey smirked, “fuckin weirdo.”

“I’ll do half and half and get a pizza for the kids.” Ian said backing out of the room.

Mickey hated the little flip his stomach did when he said ‘kids’ and tried to go back to unpacking, but he realized that it was useless when he folded the same shirt three times as his mind buzzed with images and thoughts of Ian as a family man.

He shook his head to get those ideas out of his head. He knew he was attracted to Gallagher, but he didn’t need thoughts like that clogging his mind. He needed to focus on just being thankful he was out of Lip and Mandy’s. Granted, he knew tonight would be fucking uncomfortable sharing a bed with the ginger haired man, but it was better than a fraying couch with springs that poked into his back or a inch thick mattress at the prison.

He just hoped he didn’t do anything too embarrassing to make Ian uncomfortable or let on that he thought he was attractive in any way. Ian was his friend and he wanted to keep it that way. He had bigger things to worry about anyway, like staying out of prison and keeping any _urges_ he may have to a minimum. Starting anything up with Ian would just be...well, it wasn’t a possibility anyway.

Besides, he doubted Ian wanted to deal with an ex-convict as a boyfriend, not when he could have anyone. They weren’t in high school anymore and Ian didn’t need to settle on him.

* * *

After Mickey struggled to fold his clothes, he went downstairs to find Liam, Emily, and Ian playing cards. Well, he should say Liam and Ian were since Emily was sitting on the older Gallagher’s lap. He went to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and then headed to the table as Ian was asking Liam for twos.

“Got room for one more?” Mickey asked, cracking open the beer and taking a sip.

“Sure.” Liam said sliding the deck over. “Ian and Emily are cheating anyway.” he said exasperatedly.

Mickey smirked and picked up the required amount of cards. Ian explained the rules very quickly and then they began to play. Mickey had always liked playing games, but the only person he played with was Mandy, who always cheated and would only play CandyLand. So after a while, he just kinda stopped playing.

Sitting in the Gallagher kitchen as they waited for the pizza to get there was a refreshing change of pace from the TV watching at Lip and Mandy’s, the dominos he played while in prison, or even walking around the neighborhood with Ian. It felt right to just sit at the table and enjoy spending time with people who actually seemed to want him around.

“Go fish.” Ian said, smirking at him when he asked for a king.

Mickey rolled his eyes playfully and reached for a card as Ian chuckled behind the coke he was drinking. When Mickey looked over at him to throw out a playfully competitive comment, he found Ian watching him with an unreadable look on his face. 

For a second as their eyes met, he felt the air rush from his lungs. The world seemed to stop as Ian’s eyes bore into his and for a crazy moment, he wanted to drag Ian upstairs and have his dirty way with him. He wished--

“Mickey! Do you have any fours?” Liam asked, snapping his attention to him.

Mickey blinked as he took in his cards, saw he had a four, and slid it across the table.

He looked over at the youngest Gallagher who was smirking and he wasn’t sure if it was from getting a pair or because he caught Mickey staring at his redheaded brother. He opened his mouth to say something snarky, but there was a knock on the door and Ian went to answer it. 

He heard the exchange with the pizza man and then two hot pies were placed onto the table distracting them from their game. 

Mickey dug into the pizza feeling eyes on him, but when he looked up, Ian was helping Emily cut up her slices before helping himself.

He felt an odd hiccup in his heart as he watched the scene and right as Ian’s head moved to look up, he looked down to focus on his food. 

He didn’t want to be caught in those green eyes again. Not because he didn’t want to see Ian stare at him, but because he knew he wouldn’t control himself if he was caught in his heated gaze. He gulped down some of his beer as he thought about how uncomfortable tonight would be when they slept in the same bed.

* * *

Mickey wasn’t sure what made him say it. 

After dinner, they had watched some TV show, then Ian put Liam and Emily to bed before they settled into the couch. Mickey was flipping through stations as they sat there vetoing each one. They had been laughing and enjoying the easiness of it all and then Mickey had to go and ruin it

“You know, I didn’t mind being locked up if it kept me away from Terry.” Mickey blurted out suddenly as he stopped on some plastic surgery show.

Ian blinked slowly, the laugh that had been consistent all night suddenly coming to a halt as he digested the stupid sentence that had just come out of Mickey’s mouth. The older man regretted saying it instantly. Even before he had actually finished the sentence, he knew what he’d just said should have stayed in his head. He could feel Ian’s eyes on him and he uncomfortably glanced over at him not knowing why he’d said what he had in the first place. He’d been thinking about how much he wanted to know more about Ian and what had happened during the years they had been apart. But instead, _he_ was the one oversharing. Worse, he was bringing up a time in his life that he felt vulnerable about, which wasn’t something he wanted to rehash. 

He fell silent as he struggled to continue to grasp onto the easiness that they’d had all night, but it was already gone. He’d chased it away and now all that was left was a heavy anguish in the air that seemed to suffocate him.

“Do you want to watch a mov--” Mickey began, but was cut off by Ian.

“Have you, uh, talked to Terry since...since you got out?” Ian asked hesitantly.

Mickey stared at the television not wanting to go down the path he himself had opened up. When he chanced a glance at Ian, he seemed to be hanging on even the silence that Mickey was giving off and he figured that Ian was just as eager to know about his missing years as he was.

“I didn’t talk to him before I went in. After, uh, after I got out of the hospital when...I, uh, I went to live in a homeless shelter. Well, sort’ve. I stayed with my Uncle Ronnie till Terry found out, then with Sandy for a bit, but Terry found out about that too. But Sandy helped, you know, she and Mandy...Mandy, she’d kill me if I told you this, but she was hooking for awhile. Needed the money...and she introduced me to some girls...I made money off of them. The guns and the drugs I got - I got done for were just...the icing on top of the cake, I guess. But going to prison for pimping and the drugs and the guns...it wasn’t so bad. I mean, I had a roof over my head and food in my belly. Although, it fucked my stomach up...” he trailed off and cleared his throat as he struggled with if he wanted to continue talking or stop. It was weird, he wanted to share what happened with Ian, but opening this part up to him was difficult. 

“The cops busted the brothel I was kinda running...I was sleeping there cause I had...well, they found the guns and drugs. It didn’t look great.” Mickey finished hurriedly, like ripping off a bandaid. 

He laughed humorlessly staring straight ahead at the TV, too afraid to chance a glance at Gallagher. He began to gnaw at his lip as he finished, waiting impatiently to see what Ian was going to say to that. He saw Ian’s arm move out of the corner of his eye and in response, he curled in on himself a little more.

“I’m sorry.” he said finally.

Mickey looked at him and gave him a melancholic smile. He noticed as he glanced away that Ian’s hand had traveled only a centimeter away from his and he wondered if he was going to take his hand as some form of comfort. The thought made him move further away, not wanting to be pitied by Gallagher.

“After all--” Ian stopped himself, which caused Mickey to look up from their hands and to 

him. “When I - when I had my episode, my first one, I had kinda run off after...well, I went to the army. I joined up, it was my dream, you know? I was supposed to be an officer.” Ian paused.

Mickey cleared his throat and asked, “What happened?” 

Ian gave him a sad smile, “I made a lot of mistakes. I had never had an issue taking orders in ROTC, but I don’t know, something changed...I was getting angry easier. I couldn’t sleep. I had all this energy… Anyway, one night I was getting high with some guy I’d been--” Ian stopped and looked over at him uncomfortably before continuing. Mickey tried to ignore the burning in his stomach at what he thought he was going to say.

“And--” Mickey prompted.

“The guy passed out and I was bored. I went for a walk, which wasn’t really allowed and I ended up where they have all the helicopters. I ended up - I stole a helicopter. I tried to fly it and I, well, no one was hurt - thankfully. I wasn’t thinking straight…” Ian shifted in his seat and took a drink of the water sitting on the table. “Everything kinda went downhill after that. I went AWOL. Ran away from my dream and everything. I fucked everything up because - because of this fucking disease in my head.” Ian finished and Mickey could hear the underlying anger and self-hate in his tone.

Except for the reality TV show, the silence sat heavily between them. For a while, it was just the sounds of the TV and their breathing and then Mickey felt a vaguely familiar softness on top of his hand. He saw Ian’s large one covering his own. He felt conflicted, wanting to pull it away, but also liking the warmth that it gave off. He settled with turning his palm over and squeezing their hands together before pulling away, the unfamiliar comfort making his heart rate speed up and his stomach feel all knotted.

“I’m sorry.” Mickey said and was surprised at the softness in his tone.

Ian nodded and a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, “me too.”

The sound of the television filled the quiet and they sat on the couch until the show ended. When the credits were rolling, he looked over at Ian who had gotten up and went to the kitchen.

“I’m going to go to bed.” Mickey called wincing at how suggestive he thought that sounded.

“Okay, I have to take my meds.” Ian responded, which explained why he was in the kitchen. He popped his head back into the living room and added, “I’m going to stay up for a bit, but I won’t wake you up or anything.” 

Mickey felt his mouth go dry as he thought about how this was the moment he’d been dreading - not entirely, if he was being honest - all night. 

“Sure. Night.” Mickey said carefully avoiding Ian’s eyes and then he hurried up the stairs and into his new bedroom.

He sat down on the bed and breathed out knowing the night was just getting started. He undressed, brushed his teeth, and then crawled across the mattress to lay down on the side closest to the wall. Even though he knew he’d be sharing it with Ian - it was much more preferred to a couch - that didn’t make the knots of anxiety ease in his stomach at the thought of waking up beside the ginger haired man tomorrow morning. 

He turned toward the wall and closed his eyes trying to fall asleep before Ian came to bed. 

But it seemed to be pointless. 

Paired with his lifelong habit of being a light sleeper, he was still awake when Ian crawled into bed beside him. Even if he was trying to be quiet, every muscle seemed to tense up as the bed dipped beneath Gallagher’s weight and his heart beat began a steady drumbeat in his chest as Ian’s leg brushed his as he got comfortable. 

Mickey tried to get himself to relax, but his body felt like a spring ready to jump. He’d never felt so on edge - or so conflicted - in his whole life. Hearing Ian let out a long sigh and stop shifting around, Mickey gripped the pillow and shuffled closer to the wall as he willed sleep to overtake him. Little did he know, he was in for a long, sleepless night.


	7. Irritation In Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian begins to backslide and Mickey is acting weirdly around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading the story! I really appreciate the comments and kudos! It's so great knowing what you guys think of the story! We starting to get into the thick of it and I'm excited to see what you guys think. Please leave a comment to let me know what you think! 
> 
> Side note, there is some drug use in this chapter and I updated the tags to reflect that.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter and stay healthy and safe!

_2019_

Ian could hear Mickey’s footsteps on the stairs as he headed up to bed. As the brunette left the first floor of the house, Ian sagged against the kitchen counter. He couldn’t believe he was about to go upstairs and share a bed with Mickey Milkovich. It was - he had a lot of feelings about it. One thing he did know was that it was all fucking with his head.

“Fuck.” he muttered as he stared at the pill box that he’d taken out of the cabinet for his evening dosage. He had meant to pop the pills in his mouth without much thought, like he did everyday with the help of his siblings nagging, but he’d hesitated when he heard Mickey say he was going to bed and now, he just needed a minute.

Without his siblings nagging him to take his medication or without a nurse or a doctor there, it was, well, it would be easy to just skip it.

He rattled the little container and listened to the pills - his medicine jumped back and forth letting him know that he still hadn’t taken his nightly dosage. Leaning further into the counter, he slid down to the floor and kept the pill box tightly in his hand as he contemplated taking them.

He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so much about just sharing a bed with Mickey, it was completely innocent. 

And while being around the Southside thug had re-awakened something in Ian that he had thought was long buried, it was just a crush. No harm ever came from a crush, right?

Besides, he had all day to prepare himself for this point of the evening, he shouldn’t be acting so weird about it.

It wasn’t a big deal, at least that’s what he kept telling himself. 

It had been a very long time since he’d shared a bed with anyone and even longer since no sex was involved. What if he did something weird in his sleep? What if he put him on edge? What if Mickey woke up to a boner poking him in the back? 

Ian knew that it would be uncomfortable for any straight man to wake up with that sensation, but Mickey wasn’t straight. Although, that didn’t mean he wanted to wake up to a boner poking him, Ian reasoned.

He shook the little pill container again as he tried to prepare to go upstairs. After a long moment, he dry swallowed his evening pills with a grimace. Then he sat on the floor and stared at the side of the washer as he waited until what he felt was a long enough time for Mickey to be asleep before he got up, slid the pill container back into its rightful place, and then quietly crept upstairs.

When he opened the door, he saw Mickey’s back facing him and he tried to get ready for bed as quietly as possible. His teeth brushed and sweatpants and a t-shirt adorning his body, it was time to crawl into bed. 

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before he crawled under the covers. Wincing when he accidentally brushed Mickey’s leg, he hoped that the other man was asleep. It took him a few minutes to find that sweet spot on the mattress and when he identified it, he let out a long sigh and curled to face the door, so if Mickey turned, he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. 

Snuggled into the pillow, he allowed his eyes to close. The last thing he thought before sleep overtook him was that this wasn’t so bad, but it would be better if Mickey wasn’t so tense. He ignored any thoughts about having to do with cuddling - he wasn’t that into it - that would never happen anyway.

* * *

Groggily, Ian awoke facing Mickey’s back. He rubbed a hand across his face as he struggled to brush aside the fogginess in his head, he wasn’t sure if he’d slept too long or too short. All he knew was that he needed the ringing to stop. Quickly hitting the snooze button to silence it before it woke Mickey up, he turned to lay on his back as he slowly came back into the world of the living. 

He stared at the dingy white ceiling as he basked in the comfort that had settled in his chest, but then he looked over at Mickey. He stared at his back for a moment as he took in how he was almost sleeping on top of the wall, he was trying to keep as much distance from him as possible in the full size bed. And to Ian, he seemed to have forced himself as far away from him as he could get. 

Ian sighed quietly, the comfort slipping out of his body as quickly as he realized he was feeling it. Now, he was annoyed, hurt, and disoriented.

Rolling out of the bed, he began to get ready for the day. He was working the lunch shift at Patsy’s and wanted to go for a run before he had to be at work. Grabbing a pair of running shorts from a drawer, he debated if he should change in the room or go to the bathroom to do it, but Mickey was basically digging a hole in the wall to escape him and was turned away, so he doubted that it would be a big deal if he changed here. Besides, he was pretty sure he was asleep anyway.

Slipping his t-shirt off, Ian turned to face the closest just in case Mickey woke up. He doubted that he’d want to get a faceful of his dick. Smirking at the thought, Ian slipped the sweatpants off and then slid on the shorts. The air was already sticky with heat, so he figured that he’d be fine just running without a shirt on. Grabbing the water near the bedside table and his phone for some tunes during his run, he went to go take a leak and brush his teeth before heading into the Chicago sun.

After relieving himself, he descended into the kitchen where Fiona was sitting nursing a cup of coffee and feeding Emily.

“Morning.” he said, stopping in the kitchen to greet his sister and niece.

“How was everything last night?” Fiona asked with raised eyebrows.

Ian hesitated as he considered her question, “I mean...kinda weird. Not with the kids, with Mickey.”

Fiona made a gesture to go on.

“I don’t think he likes the situation much.” Ian muttered hating the note of misery that crept into his tone.

His sister gave him an exasperated look. “Put yourself in his shoes. Would you be comfortable sharing your bed with someone you barely knew?”

“I know him.” Ian protested.

She held her hands up in a surrender gesture and then nodded to the kitchen. “You take your meds?”

Ian rolled his eyes, but did as he was supposed to. He stalked over to the cabinet and grabbed the plastic pill box. 

The alarm he’d set strategically told him to take his pills, but sometimes - sometimes he woke up and the last thing he wanted to do was take them. Just like last night when he sat in the kitchen, alone, debating if he should. But he knew that his siblings were keeping a watchful eye on him and they’d know if he skipped a dose. He knew the deal and he had no intention of going back to the psych ward.

The fact is, he hated how the meds made him feel. In the beginning, they said that he’d get used to it, but so far he’d been consistently taking his meds for two years - thanks to the psych ward - and he still detested taking them morning and night. He didn’t feel like himself, he wondered if he ever would.

“Ian, I know you just want to help your friend, but--” Fiona began.

“He’s just on edge cause he doesn’t like people being in his space.” Ian interrupted, allowing the irritability he had started to feel when he woke up to slip into his voice.

Fiona frowned, “well then why did he agree to it?”

Silence filled the kitchen as Ian swallowed down his pills, drank some water and then put the container back. He knew he was using his medication as a stalling tactic, but he wasn’t interested in talking about this with Fiona. He didn’t have answers to the questions she asked and frankly, he had the same questions. Seeing Mickey basically trying to dig himself a hole to get away from Ian was, well, it made him feel pretty shitty. It made him feel unwanted. It made him feel like a piece of gum stuck under someone’s shoe. It made him feel worthless.

“I’m going for a run. I’ll see you at Patsy’s later.” Ian said feeling the restless energy in his legs. He needed to burn some of it off and combined with the fogginess that was still lingering in his head, he was eager to feel the fresh air outside and get out of the house. Just as he prepared to leave though, Fiona called him back in. 

“Ian, have you, uh, been to the psychiatrist yet at the clinic?” 

He felt dread settle in his stomach at the question. “I tried to make an appointment.” He protested. 

Fiona sighed, “you know the conditions—“

“I said I tried.” Ian snapped.

There was a moment of silence and Ian sighed and turned back to look at Fiona who was watching him carefully.

“How about I call and make an appointment?” she said agreeably.

His frustration seemed to rise up within him and he opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn’t a child when Lip came bursting through the front door with Mandy in tow.

“Morning!” Lip said with an amused smile.

Ian looked away from Fiona to Lip whose smile seemed to be slipping from his lips at the sight of them in the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Lip asked and Ian could tell that he was sensing the tension in the kitchen.

“Nothing.” Ian said quickly right as Fiona said, “Ian--”

Lip’s eyebrows raised as he looked back and forth between his older sister and younger brother.

“We were just talking about why Ian hasn’t seen a psychiatrist yet.” Fiona said in that same careful, motherly tone she used when she knew she was treading on eggshells.

“It’s not--” 

“Why haven’t you gone yet?” Lip asked, interrupting him.

Ian looked over Lip’s shoulder to Mandy who was looking uncomfortable during their interaction. 

“I’ll call again. They were booked up this month.” Ian said and moved to leave again.

“Ian, come on. We went over this before you left the institution.” Lip said, taking a step toward him.

“I can make you an appointment. I can go with you.” Fiona said and he hated the note of desperation that was in her tone.

“Yeah, sure. Fine.” Ian said quickly just so he could leave the house. He closed the door before they could start in on him again and began to warm up to go for his run. He was stretching out his quads when he heard the door open behind him and he prepared himself to deal with Lip or Mickey telling him off for not making the appointment. 

Instead, he heard Mandy call out to him.

He turned around quickly to see the female Milkovich standing awkwardly on the back porch with a cigarette in her hand. When she saw him, she slowly walked over to him and leaned against the fence. 

“How far do you run?” she asked, focusing on lighting her cigarette.

He eyed her warily wondering if Lip had sent her out here to talk to him or find out how he was doing. “Five miles.” he said reluctantly.

“Fuck, I can’t even run one.” she said, taking a drag on her cigarette.

He made a non-committal noise as he finished stretching his quads. 

She glanced up at him and gave him a soft smile. He noticed her and Mickey’s smiles were similar and he looked away toward the street to distract himself.

“How’s living with Mickey?” she asked, bringing his attention back to her.

He shrugged, “you know, there’s an adjustment.”

There was a beat of silence before Mandy broke it.

“Listen, Lip just worries--.”

“It was nice catching up, Mandy.” he said quickly walking away and toward the street. He was tired of people hovering all over him when he just wanted to live his life. His siblings were constantly asking him about his meds and he understood. They didn’t want to see him become Monica, but it was also exhausting to try and balance their emotions with his own. He had always been the sibling that was in control of everything. He didn’t really party, he got good grades by working hard, he was in fucking ROTC, and now he was the sibling everyone worried about the most. 

And that included Debbie who was in fucking Europe doing God knew what.

It was fucking draining.

Now Lip had gotten other people to worry about him too. 

He didn’t want to be the fucked up sibling. He didn’t want to have fucking pep talks in the yard with Lip’s girlfriend, just like he didn’t want to talk to Fiona’s boyfriend about it. 

At this point, he just wanted everyone to leave him alone. 

But the fucked up part was that he knew when he went home, he’d put on a brave face, call up to make an appointment with the psychiatrist - he really had only called once to find out that he couldn’t get in until midway through the summer - and pretend that everything was fine. 

That he was fine. 

The truth was he could feel himself falling into bad habits and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. 

A part of him didn’t really think anyone would notice, but another part whispered to him that he’d end up back in that place if he wasn’t careful. 

And he was never going back there.

Before he just needed to be persistent and work hard to get to where he wanted to be. But he was having a hard time getting motivated to be the person he was before his time in the psych ward. He wasn’t sure what this version of him was supposed to be anymore. 

When he was young, he was the hardworking, dedicated, up and coming army recruit. Now, he saw himself as some crazy guy working at his sister’s diner without any ambition or motivation for a bright future.

What were his options anyway? Who would want him? He had no skills besides being able to shoot a target. He barely finished school with a GED and while he was a good dancer, he wasn’t going to go back to stripping. He felt like he couldn’t offer anyone anything, plus on every fucking job application he had to disclose he had a disability - fucking bipolar disorder.

Feet pounding the pavement, Ian tried to get lost in more pleasant thoughts. His mind of course drited to Mickey, but instead of bringing joy like it used to, it brought him discomfort. The image of seeing him try to get as far away from him as possible brought a bad taste to his mouth and for the rest of the run, he tried to focus on how he was going to survive sleeping in the same bed as Mickey for the unforeseeable future.

* * *

When he got home from his run, the house was quiet. The silence always meant one thing in the Gallagher home: it was empty. 

With a sigh of relief, he trudged up the stairs only stopping to grab a towel from the closet before heading to his room to get rid of his shoes before getting in the shower. 

The door to his room was closed, so he didn’t think much of it - he always closed it to keep out any unwanted visitors who may find their way into the house. He reached forward to yank the accordian door open and stopped dead in his tracks at who stood before him.

Dripping wet from his own shower, Mickey was standing there in only a towel.

“Oh!” Ian stuttered as he took in his new roommate before him. He knew his eyes were as wide as saucers as he stared at the sheen of moisture that was making his skin glisten; Ian’s eyes were immediately drawn down to the defined muscles of Mickey’s chest. 

The mid-morning sun peaked through the window in the room making his pale skin glitter from the recent shower. He’d never seen someone look so beautiful as Mickey did standing there. Ian felt the sudden urge to move forward and lick those droplets off of that smooth skin.

A flash of memory invaded his mind and he remembered the feel of Mickey’s flesh beneath his fingers, the way the usually pale skin flushed beneath his gaze or how when he trailed a finger down his pecs and abs, Mickey would shiver and moan at the touch. 

As his eyes slowly moved south, he took in the sinewed planes of his chest until his gaze landed on the loosely draped towel covering his bottom half. 

For a moment, Ian couldn’t tell if the audible gulp that filled the room came from him or Mickey, but the noise broke the spell and he quickly darted his eyesight up to find the brunette’s own cerulean orbs trained on his sweaty skin. 

Ian felt a blush creep across his cheeks as he realized that Mickey was checking him out, the same way he had been doing only seconds earlier to him. He wondered if Mickey remembered the same way Ian did. He wondered if Mickey thought about him the same way Ian did.

He opened his mouth to say something he was sure he was going to regret, when Mickey found his voice.

“What the fuck Ga--.” Mickey finally croaked out.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Ian said quickly and then closed the door again. 

He stood in the hallway for a moment trying to get a hold of himself and then he laughed uncomfortably. After taking a few deep breaths, he toed off his shoes, put them near the doorway, and made his way to the bathroom. 

The first thing he wanted to do when he got in the shower was take care of the raging hardon that he was sure Mickey must have noticed. There was no way that he couldn’t notice the very obvious tent in his running shorts. As he waited for the water to warm up, he undressed and stepped into the tub. The still cold water hit him hard, but he didn’t care when he was feeling so turned on at seeing Mickey in such a state of undress.

He ducked his head beneath the water, not even bothering to turn the knobs to get the small amount of hot water that there was probably left. The cold water felt like it was slicing his skin, but it helped to get rid of the dirty thoughts that had entered his mind when he saw Mickey half naked. He just wished that he’d gotten a look at the delicious ass. If only he’d walked in a moment earlier or later, he mused and then banished that thought from his mind, knowing that was an invasion of his privacy.

He already knew he was uncomfortable sharing a bed with him, Ian didn’t have to make it worse by walking in on him naked.

But still, there was a little voice in the back of his head reminding him that even though it had been many years since they’d last been together, Ian knew Mickey’s ass was probably even better than it was the last - and only - time they fucked.

His mind filled with thoughts of Mickey’s round, pale ass beneath his fingers, gripping the soft flesh as he pounded into him from behind and Ian knew that not even a cold shower was going to relieve him of the dirty thoughts he was having about the Southside thug.

Taking himself in hand, he began to gently stroke up and down his length as he thought of Mickey standing there in just his towel. His mind flashed to the long ago memory he had of what it felt like to bury himself in Mickey’s ass hole as he pumped his hand up and down his cock.

He closed his eyes to focus on another vision of Mickey on his knees in front of him. Another memory came to mind as he imagined the older man taking Ian’s dick into his mouth.

As he day dreamed, Ian’s hand began to speed up and he ran his thumb over the top of his cock. He rubbed the tip as he imagined it was Mickey’s hand instead. 

Then he moved his palm up and down, desperate to bring himself some release as thoughts of Mickey clouded his mind. Even though his body was wet from the shower, he could feel the familiar stickiness of precum and he sped up his movements as he got lost in the pleasure and the memories he’d tried to suppress long ago. He bit his lip to keep himself from moaning out as he brought himself some relief. 

When he was finished, he washed his hair, his body, and then dawdled in the bathroom until he couldn’t any longer if he was going to get to work on time.

With the towel wrapped tightly around his waist, he made his way back to the bedroom. He found the door open and Mickey was gone, which didn’t surprise him. 

He doubted he’d be seeing much of Mickey until tonight.

He rummaged through his drawers to grab a pair of boxers, jeans, and a t-shirt to wear for work and then he hurried to catch the bus to head to Patsy’s.

* * *

_2009_

Ian was kind of impressed with Mickey. After the incident with Kash, Mickey had actually kept his word and found him a job in another convenience store. When he’d said that he’d find him a job, Ian had automatically assumed he was going to be running drugs for Terry Milkovich, but instead, Mickey came through. 

It wasn’t the first time or the last that Ian would be surprised by Mickey, but it was the first time that he realized there was someone outside of his family (Kev and Vee notwithstanding) that was looking out for him. 

It was a nice feeling.

In additional to helping him find a job though, Mickey also didn’t bring up the fact he was gay again.

In fact, Mickey wasn’t acting any differently toward him at all, which had been something he’d been very afraid of. 

“Whatchu doing tonight, Firecrotch?” Mickey asked, nudging Ian’s shoulder as he locked up the outside door of the convenience store, Bill’s Quick Stop. His boss wasn’t actually named Bill, he was Syrian, but he figured that Bill was as American as you got, which he hoped would bring in more customers. It was farther than the Kash N Grab, but he didn’t have to worry about anyone trying to take advantage of him.

Kash had seemed nice and when he tried to defend him to Mickey, he knew how it came across. Perhaps if Kash had taken advantage of him at the right moment when he was feeling particularly down and lonely, things would’ve happened differently, but that wasn’t the case and having someone grab at you without your consent was leaving Ian with a few lingering issues that he didn’t think would ever happen to him. 

Regardless, he had Mickey to rely on and that was enough. He didn’t like to think about where he’d be if Mickey hadn’t stepped in to help him out - _rescue him,_ a small voice in the back of his head corrected.

But he shut that down because he wasn’t some damsel in distress who needed someone to rescue him, especially his friend.

“Probably just smoking with Lip.” Ian said absentmindedly.

“Iggy is going to a party if you want to go?” Mickey suggested biting the side of his lip.

Ian smirked identifying the nervous twitch, he wondered why Mickey was nervous about asking him to a party. 

He and Mickey didn’t hang out much outside of walking around the Southside, hanging at the dugouts, and when the brunette showed up at school. Ian had tried to come over or invited him to the Gallagher house, but Mickey had never been very open to those ideas or he’d been busy running drugs or guns for his dad. So getting invited to a party was pretty out of left field for him.

“Sure.” Ian said as they began to walk back to their neighborhood.

“You can invite that shithead brother of yours.” Mickey added.

“I’ll ask Lip.” Ian agreed, feeling excited at the prospect of hanging out with Mickey outside of school or wandering around their neighborhood. He debated if he wanted his brother to actually come alone with them and decided that he’d rather just look forward to spending time with Mickey without Lip getting in the way. He’d never really had anyone to himself before and he wasn’t interested in sharing Mickey.

“Cool, meet me at the dugouts at 10.” he said as they reached the point where they generally had to split off. 

Ian nodded and watched as Mickey began to head toward his house. He tried to keep his eyes trained on his head, but he couldn’t help his gaze sliding south to rest on his ass. He shook his head to banish those thoughts about his obviously straight friend and then headed back to his house to get ready for the party tonight.

* * *

The party was in full swing when they showed up close to 11. Iggy had maneuvered their way into the apartment building with Ian bringing up the rear. 

Ian had figured that a few of the Milkovich cousins would tag along too, but it was just the three of them. He had also expected to show up to some crack den house party that Fiona would surely reprimand him for going to if she ever found out, but instead, they were in a decent part of the city that Ian had never been to before. The apartment building they’d stopped in front of actually looked nice and when they made their way upstairs, Ian quickly realized that it was a DePaul party and he and Mickey were easily the youngest people there.

“How’d your brother find out about this?” Ian asked as they made their way upstairs and past gaggles of girls in the hallway. 

“Dealing pot to college students. He’s seeing some bitch that goes to DePaul.” Mickey said and Ian knew his eyebrows had probably disappeared under his bangs at what he’d just said.

“Iggy is seeing a girl from _DePaul_?” Ian asked incredulously.

Mickey tossed him back a look that Ian knew meant he needed to back off. “That’s what I fucking said didn’t I?” he snipped.

Ian put his hands up in a surrender motion and continued to follow the two Milkovich brothers until they stopped in front of a doorway with people pouring out of it. They were quickly sucked up into the party and Ian couldn’t help but stare when some brunette girl came over to Iggy and tugged him into a sloppy kiss.

He tried to catch Mickey’s eye, but he was already heading toward the kitchen, so Ian figured he’d follow him instead of watch Iggy and this girl eat each other’s mouths. 

He wasn’t much of a drinker - growing up with Frank and Monica for parents would do that - but he wanted to blend in, so he grabbed a beer when Mickey handed him one.

“So Iggy sells pot to students from DePaul?” Ian yelled over the music.

Mickey cracked open his beer and moved them into a corner of the kitchen so they weren’t blocking the keg or the fridge, which was a major draw for the college students.

“Iggy sells to everyone.” Mickey said, shrugging.

“But how--”

“We all do. It’s Dad’s rule.” Mickey lowered his voice and morphed it to sound gruffer. Obviously, he was supposed to be imitating Terry, but Ian didn’t laugh like he knew he was supposed to. Somehow Mickey even pretending to be Terry was uncomfortable. “As long as they got dough, sell them blow.” He chuckled darkly and Ian felt his stomach turn at the underlying discomfort that laced Mickey’s voice. “Obviously, it was for coke, but any drugs, sell them.” Mickey said nonchalantly.

Ian paused as he took that in, “so we’re here on business, not pleasure?”

Mickey looked at him with a twinkle in his eye and something inside Ian seemed to shift at seeing how relaxed and at ease he seemed to be tonight.

“I’m here to get fucked up, if I sell some weed or blow, then that’s just a bonus.” Mickey said, smirking at him.

Ian couldn’t help but smile back and brought the bottle of beer to his lips as he surveyed the tiny kitchen. He saw a group of girls standing in the corner of the kitchen across from them and he didn’t miss the way they were checking him and Mickey out. He looked at Mickey to tell him about the girls, but found him staring at him, which caused a light blush to spread across Ian’s cheeks. He also didn’t miss the way Mickey looked away in embarrassment.

“Let’s go check the apartment out.” Mickey said and Ian followed dutifully bypassing the girls who seemed to look crestfallen at their abrupt exit. He had the sudden urge to grab Mickey’s hand, just to mark his territory so no one tried to take him away from him tonight, but he knew he was being silly.

Mickey was straight, _right?_

They began to walk through the small college apartment that seemed to be packed

wall-to-wall with people. It was hard to move around them and Ian caught himself accidentally getting too close to Mickey so that their hands brushed together. But surprisingly, Mickey didn’t seem to mind and once or twice he’d grabbed onto Ian’s t-shirt so as not to lose track of him.

It was in the living room as they passed a group of guys where they were stopped. Mickey leaned in to tell Ian that Iggy had introduced them before, they bought off of him regularly and Ian tried not to shiver at how the brunette’s lips caressed the shell of his ear. He knew it was on accident, but he really hoped it was on purpose.

“You got any yayo, Milkovich?” one of them asked and Ian could tell he was already drunk.

“You want some grass too, Jay?” Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I’ll take the weed.” the guy beside this Jay said.

Ian half paid attention as they exchanged money and drugs and then they invited them to smoke with them. They settled into a corner of the living room to roll a blunt and the guys introduced themselves to Ian. They smoked the blunt as Mickey talked to the guys and Ian chimed in with side comments. It wasn’t until they were rolling the second blunt did Iggy come to find them.

“Hey, Mick, Raquel brought a friend with her.” Iggy said nodding over to the brunette he’d been making out with before. Ian looked over too and saw the mentioned girl who was petite, blonde, and waving at them coyly.

An irrational distaste for her crawled up his throat and he tried to ignore the burning in his stomach as Iggy began to talk about her.

“Her name is Alexandria.” Iggy said smirking at Mickey who shifted next to Ian.

“I’m busy.” Mickey said waving his brother off and going back to telling the story he’d been entertaining them with before Iggy had come over.

“Come on, Mick, when was the last time you got laid?” Iggy encouraged him. 

Ian felt the burning in his stomach give way to dread as he watched Mickey’s shoulders begin to tense up at the question. He wanted to tell Iggy to stop and just let Mickey be, but the determined look on the older Milkoviche’s face told him that he wasn’t going to drop it until his brother went over there.

“She’s hot, Mickey, you should hit that.” Jay said, taking a long drag on the blunt and handed it to Ian.

Ian took it, careful to keep his face neutral as Mickey turned to look at him as if seeking permission to go and talk to the girl. 

“Don’t worry, Mick, I’ll watch your friend. Make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.” Iggy said looking between them in amusement.

Mickey opened his mouth, but Ian never had the opportunity to find out what he was going to say because the girl came over.

“I’m Alexandria. My friend Raquel was telling me about you.” she said smiling widely at Mickey.

Ian frowned at the girl and focused on the uneven lines of her eyeliner and the caked on foundation. He wanted to tell her to go away, but didn’t think that would be well received. 

“I’m Mickey.” Mickey said and Ian wasn’t sure if he actually heard or was wishing he heard the note of discomfort in his tone.

“Do you want to grab a beer?” she asked pointedly nodding to the kitchen.

Mickey grumbled a response and hit the blunt Ian offered him once more before going off to the kitchen. Ian watched them go, the dread in his stomach solidifying like a rock and making him feel sick. 

“Sorry, but I know he needs to get laid.” Iggy said quietly so not to let the other guys in on what he was saying.

Ian looked at the older Milkovich, not sure what to say, so instead he gave him a few crumbled 10s and asked him for some pot. Iggy handed him more than what he was paying for and gave him a sympathetic smile. He watched as he walked off back to the Raquel girl and Ian felt an emptiness rest in his chest as he was left alone at the party. 

* * *

It was well after midnight when Iggy found Ian again. Ian hadn’t seen Mickey since he’d walked off with the girl and he’d had to entertain himself with meeting new people as he tried to ignore the heaviness in his stomach. He knew he should’ve just left when Mickey had disappeared, but he also didn’t want to make it obvious that he was annoyed that his friend had left him at a party alone.

Really, he should understand, Mickey obviously had needs and he hadn’t done it on purpose. His brother had put him up to it, but the darker side of Ian whispered that Mickey could’ve just said ‘no’ and told his brother to fuck off. 

“Mickey’s still not back yet?” Iggy asked, coming to sit beside Ian on the couch. 

The two girls Ian had been talking to had just vacated it with a trip to the bathroom and had mercifully left him alone to smoke the rest of his joint. 

“I guess.” Ian said, trying not to let the irritation slip into his tone as he addressed Iggy.

There was a beat of silence as Iggy held out his hand and Ian passed him the joint.

“You see any bitches you want to fuck here?” Iggy asked and Ian tried not to sneer at the question.

“Nope.” 

There was a beat of silence as they both looked off into the crowded apartment.

“You know, Mickey doesn’t have a lot of friends.” Iggy said quietly and Ian turned to look at him not sure where exactly he was headed with that statement. “I mean he has people that follow him and he has people that look up to him, but friends - _nah_ . Shit like friends aren’t really a thing for Milkoviches.” He blew out a steady stream of smoke and handed the joint back to Ian. He glanced at him and then down at his hands. “You, though, I didn’t really know about you for awhile. I mean, Mickey isn’t exactly open, you know, but when I heard that you guys were friends, I was surprised. What surprised me the most though wasn’t that Mickey finally had someone who he trusted outside of us, but the way he spoke about you. His eyes - I’ve never seen anyone’s eyes _light up_ like that when talking about a friend.”

Ian swallowed thickly and looked down at the half smoked joint in his hand as he took in what Iggy was saying.

“Terry’s always treated Mickey badly. I mean, he treats all of us badly, but Mickey...he’s always had it out for him. I figured it was cause he was the youngest boy, but…” Iggy turned to look at Ian and meet his gaze. Unlike Mickey’s bright blue eyes, Iggy’s were duller, smaller, and less enticing, but he did see that steely hardness that Ian figured was in all of the Milkovich’s gazes.

“I just worry about it, I guess. I don’t want anything bad happening.” Iggy said softly looking down and Ian’s heart rate began to speed up as possibilities of bad things that could happen to Mickey began to take over his murky mind.

“Anyway, I’m just glad he has a _friend_ like you to make sure he’s safe, you know.” Iggy said right as the girl he was seeing - Ian couldn’t even remember her name by this point - came over. She jumped on top of Iggy and they began to make out, but all Ian did was move over to the other side of the couch and let his words sink in. 

He couldn’t really think straight, but he had the weird suspicion that Iggy knew something that Ian didn’t and he was trying to tell him.

It wasn’t until much later when Ian was curled up in his own bed as the sun began to rise and the gentle snores of Carl filtered into his ears did he begin to think about what Iggy had been trying to tell him. 

As he drifted to sleep, the only thing on his mind was whether Iggy was trying to tell him that Mickey Milkovich was gay...but that couldn’t be right, could it?

* * *

_2019_

When Ian got home, he came through the front door to find Mickey and Carl watching TV. Mickey was sitting on the armchair and Carl was sprawled out on the couch. Ian sat down heavily after pushing Carl’s feet off the cushion feeling drained after the day he had. He chanced a glance at Mickey, but he was staring at the TV and was steadfastly ignoring Ian.

“What are you guys watching?” Ian directed the question more to Mickey wanting to get his attention. 

It was stange, Mickey usually texted him while he was at work, but he hadn’t today. In fact, the quick apology Ian had sent about walking in on him had gone completely ignored.

“Fast and Furious.” Carl answered dully.

Ian made a noncommittal noise and glanced over at Mickey who continued to pretend he wasn’t there.

“So, Mick, how was work?” Ian asked pointedly.

Finally, Mickey glanced at him, but Ian noted that he didn’t seem to be making eye contact. Instead, he was looking at an area over his shoulder.

“It was fucking work, Gallagher.” Mickey said irritably.

Ian frowned and glanced at Carl wondering if he could get him to leave so he could talk to Mickey alone. But Carl was staring at the television and wasn’t aware of anything else. He looked over at Mickey to see if he was paying attention and then snuck his fingers under the cuff of Carl’s pants and pinched his leg to get him to look at him.

Carl yelped loudly and glared at Ian. “What the fuck, Ian?” Carl snapped.

Feeling his cheeks redden, Ian cleared his throat loudly and slouched further into the couch knowing that he couldn’t even get Carl to leave without Mickey picking up on it since his brother had been so fucking loud.

Carl continued to glare at him and Ian could feel Mickey’s eyes on him now, so he muttered a soft ‘sorry’ and an excuse ‘my hand slipped’ and he headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“Don’t forget your meds!” Carl shouted behind him and Ian rolled his eyes at the reminder. 

He reached toward the cabinet where his pill box was and frowned when they weren’t in there. He opened up the cabinet beside them and when they weren’t in there he checked the rest of them coming up empty handed. 

For a moment, he stood in the kitchen and debated what to do. Did he tell Carl? Did someone move them? 

He glanced to the living room and saw that neither Mickey and Carl had moved, so he closed all of the cabinets and moved back to his spot on the couch as if nothing happened. 

When he sat back down, he felt Mickey’s eyes on him, but when he glanced over at the brunette, he was staring at the TV again.

The movie played out before them and as the end credits began to roll Ian stood up and announced, “I’m going to bed.” 

“Me too. Gotta work early tomorrow.” Carl said and muttered a ‘goodnight’ to both of them before heading upstairs.

Ian dawdled in the living room as he waited for Mickey, but Mickey had taken the remote and was flipping through the stations.

“Are you going to bed too?” Ian asked and hated how unsure his tone came out.

Mickey focused on the television and muttered a ‘not yet.’ 

“Are we cool?” Ian blurted out after a moment of silence.

Finally, Mickey looked at him again. “Yeah, man, we’re cool.” 

“I just mean before--”

“Don’t worry about it, Gallagher. Shit happens.” Mickey snapped.

Ian stared at him for a moment, discomfort settling in his stomach. 

“Mickey--”

“I thought you were going to bed.”

“I just--”

“Night, man.”

Ian hesitated, but could tell that Mickey wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore. He turned and headed toward the stairs, casting one last glance at him, but found he was staring steadily at the TV still. He slowly walked up the stairs and figured that maybe he could bring it up later, but Mickey never came to bed. He knew because he was up all night waiting for him.


	8. Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian runs off. Mickey goes searching for Ian. They talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited for you guys to read this chapter! We're getting into the climax of the story. Thank you everyone who has read, commented, and kudoed the story! I'm glad everyone is liking it! It's been such a blast to write so far, so if you have any feedback, please leave a comment.
> 
> This chapter is pretty intense and bittersweet. But there's more backstory, which I know a lot of you guys are interested in. I realized too late that I fucked up the timeline (shameless timeline is really hard and confusing) so I hope it doesn't detract from the story too much. I hope you guys like it. I also will have another story out soon that's solely S11 and basically all the cuteness that I want to happen. I'm still working on the first chapter, but I hope it'll be out maybe this weekend? Anyway stay healthy and safe and enjoy the story!

_2019_

The noise of someone moving around jilted Mickey out of his sleep. He hadn’t been sleeping very deeply anyway - he never did as a precaution - so when he heard the shuffling of feet, he cracked his eyes open to find Frank Gallagher in the kitchen. 

Fluffing the old decrepit pillow on the couch, Mickey rose up a little more to see what Frank was doing in the Gallagher home. As far as he knew, the patriarch wasn’t allowed in the house. At least that’s what Fiona had told him when she gave him the relatively short list of rules he had to abide by if he was going to live with them. Most of them consisted of pulling his weight, cleaning up after himself, respecting the family members, and never under any circumstances let Frank into the house.

“What the fuck?” Mickey groaned out when he saw Frank holding a plastic bag and rifling through the kitchen stealing whatever he could grab.

Frank glanced over at him, which was a sign for Mickey to go into the kitchen and put a stop to whatever the fuck it was he was stealing. He was rubbing sleep out of his eyes when he saw that he was holding what looked like an orange medication bottle. 

“Mind your own business.” Frank grunted out stuffing the container in his plastic bag. 

Mickey stared at him as he opened up another cabinet and grabbed a box of poptarts that Fiona had just bought yesterday. He grabbed the plastic bag from Frank’s grubby hands eliciting a sound of protest from the decaying alcoholic.

“Whatchu got in here, Lindsey Lohan?” Mickey began to look through the plastic bag and found three different types of medications as well as a bag of candy, chips, a toothbrush, and some rubbing alcohol.

“What the fuck are you doing with this?” Mickey snapped, stepping away from Frank who made a grab for the bag. He pulled out one of the medications and saw Ian’s name on it. He scowled when he realized what was going on.

“You’re stealing your son’s bipolar meds? The fucks wrong with you?” Mickey asked incredulously.

“First, he’s not my son. Second, why does _Mickey Milkovich_ give a shit what I’m taking from here? Why are you on _my_ couch anyway? Third, he doesn’t need it anyway. I need them more. They’re for a dear friend.” Frank said, grabbing the bag while Mickey was too focused on the pills.

Mickey wasn’t sure where to start with what Frank had said. Since when was Ian not Frank’s kid? And was Frank bipolar? Was that why he needed the meds? 

While he knew a lot about the Gallaghers from years of being in the same orbit as them, he knew that Frank wasn’t bipolar, the mom Mona or Maria or whatever was. He also knew that Frank probably didn’t really need the meds, it was probably part of some scheme. But that didn’t mean what he was doing was okay, in fact, it made Mickey even angrier that Frank would take meds from Ian when he needed them. 

Even if he was feeling weirdly toward Ian at the moment, he had heard enough stories to know that Ian without his meds was just bad. And he wasn’t going to let him slide backwards just because of fucking Frank.

He knew that Ian wouldn’t let him succumb to recidivism, so he needed to make sure Ian didn’t go back either.

He tried to ignore the small voice in his head that said he’d be... _annoyed_ if Ian left. 

“If you need them so bad, then why don’t you go down to the free clinic instead of mooching off your fucking family members?” 

Mickey made a grab to get the bag back, but Frank moved out of the way. 

Mickey tightened his hold on the pill container he was still holding and tried to steal the plastic bag again, but Frank was too quick. Smirking at Mickey, Frank began to move backward toward the door.

“Taking these pills is for a good cause. The kid can just go down to the free clinic himself and fill his prescription. No big deal. Getting off his meds is good for him anyway. It lets his true self be free.” Frank said as he made a grand gesture and backed into the door. 

Mickey scowled and lunged forward to grab at him, but years of evading people made Frank much more spry than he should be. He was out the door before Mickey could even catch the frayed shirt off his back. 

“Fuck,” Mickey muttered as Frank ran down the street and away from the house. A sinking feeling started in his stomach as he thought about what no pills meant for Ian.

He didn’t fully understand bipolar disorder, but he had listened when Ian had opened up to him about it. The only thing running through his mind was how when Ian hadn’t taken his meds last time he’d ended up in a psychiatric unit and Mickey wasn’t about to let that happen. Even though he may be avoiding the guy right now - it was for the best anyway - he didn’t want him to go back to the psych ward. If it was anything like what prison was like, Mickey wanted to keep Ian far away out of it.

He ran one hand over his face and then looked down at the container that was still in his other one. The label read Lithium, but he saw there were only a few pills left in there. He sighed heavily and put the pills in the cabinet he had seen Ian take his meds out of before. 

Looking around for a piece of paper to write a quick note to explain that Frank had been in the house and had stolen some stuff, including Ian’s meds, he came up empty handed. Instead, he went outside, stole a newspaper from the neighbors and wrote a note as best as he could. Then he went upstairs to take a shower and prepare for work.

As he went upstairs to the bathroom, he hesitated when he passed the accordion door that led to his and Ian’s room. He stopped and debated if he should go in and tell him, but he still felt weird about what happened yesterday. He knew that he couldn’t go on ignoring Ian, but the thought of facing him was a little too much to bear.

He hadn’t slept very much his first night in the Gallagher household, his thoughts of Ian alternating between horny and worried that he was going to do something in his sleep. 

It wasn’t until Ian had laid a hand on his arm did he realize how badly he wanted to curl up so his back was pressed to Ian’s hard chest. He’d debated with himself if he wanted to scoot back and settle into the curve of Ian’s body, but he was afraid of how he’d react if he woke up to them intertwined like that. So Mickey shook Ian’s hand off and scooted as far to the wall as he could get. 

When he woke up, and Mickey could sense when he woke up, he’d changed in the room. Mickey couldn’t help but chance a glance out of the corner of his eye and catch his pale ass as he slid into running shorts. After Ian had left, he’d had to take himself in hand to relieve the pressure that had been building from the glimpse of flesh he’d seen. Afterwards, a dirty feeling settled in his bones at the effect another man was having on him.

It was different in prison when men were the only option available, but now, he had a choice and he continued to choose wrong. Even though being with Ian didn’t feel wrong or dirty, in fact, it felt right. 

It had always felt right. 

Maybe that’s why he needed to fight it even more because he knew the outcome and it wasn’t good.

He’d been down this road with him already and it ended with heartbreak and radio silence.

He already thought about him all of the time, but now, he had to compete with seeing peeks of Ian’s beautiful smooth skin and well-defined muscles.

It was made a million times worse when he’d gotten out of the shower and Ian had come bursting in still sweaty from his run. 

Fuck, Mickey had never wanted to reach forward as much as he did when he saw him standing there. He could see the droplets of sweat glistening on Ian’s abs and a flash of memory of what it felt like to touch those abs invaded his mind.

Even though he was locked away for years, Ian’s body was still lean and athletic, every sinew looked like perfection to Mickey.

All of that combined had amounted to Mickey being unable to look him in the eye ever since. Which is why it was easier to just sleep on the couch and try to get a hold of himself before he interacted with Ian.

So yeah, it might be easier to take a shower before he talked to the guy. So what if he was stalling. It was better than getting tongue tied around his friend who just wanted to help him while Mickey wanted him to fuck him until he saw stars. 

Like he had before - before Terry had found them and beaten him until he passed out. It was the last time he saw Ian, but he tried not to think of that now when neither of them had brought up what had happened to them. It was easier to leave in the past and pretend it had never happened.

Continuing down to the bathroom, Mickey closed the door and began to get ready for his shower. He was halfway through washing his hair when the door banged open and he let out an annoyed, “what the fuck!”

“Don’t worry, I don’t swing that way. Had to piss,” Carl’s voice announced and Mickey scowled.

It was only once the door was opened did he hear someone shouting downstairs. He thought it sounded like Ian, but the drops of water hitting the bathtub were prohibiting him from hearing everything.

“What’s going on?” Mickey asked turning to make sure that Carl wasn’t getting an eyeful of his front.

“Oh, uh, Fiona and Lip…” Carl said as he began to pee.

Mickey grimaced at the situation, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Besides, he’d been in prison and there’d been more than enough times he’d been with other guys while he was taking care of his needs. He reached for the bar of soap and began to lather up as best as he could with Carl in the bathroom.

“Ian flushed his meds,” Carl added when he was finished.

“What?” Mickey shouted. The soap slipped through his fingers and raced around the tub, making him curse for having to reach down to get it.

“Yeah, fucking way to wake up,” he grumbled and flushed the toilet before leaving.

Mickey stood in the shower for a moment as he let Carl’s words wash over him and then he quickly finished up before getting dressed to go downstairs. 

Once he was in the kitchen, he saw Fiona with her hands on her hips, Lip staring open mouthed at the door, and the back of Ian as he slammed the door behind him. It was quiet in the kitchen as the three of them stood until Mickey broke the silence.

“What happened?”

“Family stuff,” Lip said as Fiona announced that Ian had flushed his pills.

“What--?” Mickey began, but Lip cut him off when he turned to Fiona.

“I don’t want to send him back, but if we need to, then...I mean, maybe we should call them?”

Fiona ran a hand through her hair, “he said that he didn’t, but--”

“He didn’t!” Mickey said quickly.

The two older Gallagher siblings turned to him in confusion. 

“What do you mean?” Fiona asked.

“Frank was here this morning. Didn’t you see my note? He took Ian’s pills,” Mickey said, rushing over to where he’d put the note, but it was nowhere to be found. 

He opened the cabinet and took out the bottle of Lithium with a few pills in it and then tossed it to Fiona while he rapidly searched for the hastily written note, which he found in the garbage. He turned to look at Fiona and then Lip, a sinking sensation starting in his stomach as he took in their anxious faces.

Lip and Fiona glanced at each other and then back to Mickey.

“Frank was here?” 

“Yeah, in the kitchen. He had all of Ian’s meds. Just said he needed them.” 

“Fucking’s scheming ass,” Lip muttered.

The kitchen went quiet again as the three of them were lost in their own thoughts.

“Should we go after Ian?” Mickey asked finally.

“He’ll - he’ll come back,” Fiona said confidently. 

Mickey couldn’t help but pick up the panic underlying in her voice and he wasn’t sure if he believed her.

In fact, he didn’t believe her at all if his instincts were telling him anything. 

* * *

_2010_

“What do you want to do for your birthday?” Ian asked as they cut through the park after he got off his shift from the convenience store.

Mickey glanced at him before taking a hit of the joint he’d rolled while waiting for Ian after work. “I don’t know. Birthdays aren’t really a thing in my house, you know.”

He felt Ian’s eyes on him at what he said, but he chose to ignore the inquiring look he was giving him.

“I was thinking we could do something fun,” Ian mused.

“Like what?”

“Well, it’s your birthday. What do you want to do?” he asked.

Mickey stopped and turned to look at him, the question bouncing around in his head. What did he want to do for his birthday?

Growing up with Terry, birthdays weren’t a big deal. He’d learned that fairly early in life when Mandy had tried to bake him a cake the year after their mom died, but Terry had thrown it against the wall and declared that birthdays were for weak pansies and if they should be celebrating anything, it was that they were alive. Which looking back on, Mickey found to be counterintuitive. The _entire point_ of a birthday was to celebrate becoming one year older and being alive. But Mickey just figured his dad was so sloshed or high that he just wanted to terrorize his two youngest kids - at the time anyway. 

The point was though that Mickey never really got into celebrating his birthday. Besides his brothers no one even knew what day it was. It wasn’t until Ian had asked casually one day and he’d let it slip did someone outside of his family know when he was born. They’d been talking about Ian’s birthday - May 9, Mickey had that shit tattooed in his mind - and he’d asked about Mickey’s. So he begrudgingly told him - August 10th.

Now, here they were traipsing across the Southside in the sticky August heat discussing what Mickey wanted to do for his birthday.

The truth was all he wanted to do was hang out with Ian. That’s all he seemed to ever want to do. The more time he spent with the redhead, the less he ever wanted to leave him. It was getting to be an issue, Mickey knew that. He knew it wasn’t normal to want to be around another boy as much as he wanted to be around Ian. 

It had gotten especially bad this summer because they seemed to be together all the time. Ever since Ian had finished his year of school - Mickey had stopped going long ago despite Firecrotch’s nagging - they’d been inseparable. Mickey had even talked himself into a security job at the store he’d helped Ian get a job at. It was easy when the guy was scared of his father and owed him a favor. But it just solidified the desire to be close to Ian all the time.

They were together during the workday and after work and still for Mickey, it didn’t seem to be enough.

Every time he worried that Ian thought he was around too much or he was suffocating him, he’d surprise him by saying something mushy and fucking soft.

His favorite, although he’d never admit it and had called Ian a pussy when he said it, was when he’d said, “I’ve never wanted to spend this much time with anyone else.”

It made his insides do something he’d never experienced before. If he could explain it, it felt kind of like his stomach was a bowl of melting ice-cream left out in the sun, getting all hot and soft. 

“I’m fine just hanging out,” Mickey said gruffly, making sure to look away from him when he said it. He didn’t want Ian to think he liked hanging out with him, even if it was obvious by the amount of time they spent together.

There was a beat of silence and Mickey looked over to find him smiling fondly at him. 

“Yeah, okay, I’ll figure something out, Mick,” he said.

Mickey shrugged as if to say he didn’t care, but he couldn’t lie to himself when the excitement at what Ian could possibly plan for him settled in his stomach. It would be his first birthday that someone actually _wanted_ to celebrate and he could already feel the anticipation mounting.

They parted ways as they came to where their paths deviated and the usual feeling of longing didn’t settle in the way it usually did when Mickey left Ian. Instead, he couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face, at least until he saw that his dad was home.

* * *

On August 10th, Mickey met Ian at the dugouts already itching to know what he had planned. For the last few days, he’d tried to get something out of him, but it was no use - Ian was tightlipped. Which was surprising since Mickey could generally get anything out of him.

When Mickey walked up, Ian was leaning against the fence with an amused look on his

face.

“Took you long enough.” Ian said teasingly.

Walking closer, he could feel the electricity in the air and he let out a delighted chuckle, feeling too giddy to even pretend to be put off by whatever surprise Ian had concocted. He was thinking they were going to steal beers and just walk around the Southside, like they always did, but when he approached, Ian pushed off the fence and led him into the dugouts. 

“Your surprise, Mick,” Ian said sitting down on the bench beside two brown paper bags.

“What’s this, Firecrotch?” Mickey asked following after him.

Instead of answering, Ian reached into the second one to pull out a tall boy. Mickey smirked when he saw that it was his favorite kind - Steel Reserve - and popped the top of it before taking a long drink. He smacked his lips together as the ice cold beer quenched his thirst. 

“That’s fucking good,” Mickey said letting out a belch. 

Ian rolled his eyes and then reached into the second bag and handed Mickey a sandwich. It was heavy and the smell made his mouth water. He’d know that smell anywhere. It was worth traipsing halfway through the city for it.

“Is this from--”

“Yeah, I got your favorite.”

There was a pause as Mickey digested the fact that Ian had went all the way to Wicker Park to one of those stupid hipster restaurants to get the sandwich. He hated those types of restaurants, but he’d found the place while he was over in that part of town making a drop and had gotten hungry. He’d talked about it so much that Ian and him had wandered over to that part of town just for the sandwich and Ian had fallen in love with it too. Ever since when they had little to do and a little bit of money, they’d go there and it had quickly become their spot.

Mickey felt a sudden urge to lean over and hug Ian, over a fucking sandwich of all things, but he didn’t want to seem like a pussy and he definitely didn’t want Ian to get weirded out by him acting so bizarrely.

Instead of hugging him, he took another sip of his beer and moved to sit beside him. 

“Fries, too?” he asked, hating how quiet his tone was when he asked. 

It was just a birthday, he really shouldn’t get so bent out of shape because of a fucking sandwich and some fries. But sitting next to Ian, staring into his luminous eyes as they drank their beers and ate these fucking amazing sandwiches, he wanted the moment to last forever.

He just wanted to be around Ian, endlessly. Enjoy their teasing, their wrestling, the fun they had together for years to come. For brief moments, he’d consider asking him to run away with him, so neither of them had to worry about their fucked up lives - a life he had known for years was fucked. He knew that the only future he had was one behind bars, but Ian gave him the desire to live better, to be free. He wanted to capture that feeling and keep it somewhere safe - he always wanted to feel it. And while there were things he wished for with Ian, just being around him was enough to make him feel free to be himself.

He wanted to show his appreciation for what Ian did for him on his birthday, so he nudged his shoulder against his, careful not to spill anything, and then took a bite of his sandwich, savoring the turkey, the spicy mayo, even the vegetables as he began to enjoy the food. Between mouthfuls, they talked about their summer and Ian’s classes for the following year. Mickey told him a funny story about Iggy and Mandy that had Ian nearly choking on a french fry. 

He wasn’t sure how many beers he’d had - Ian claimed it was three, but Mickey didn’t believe him - but he was feeling good. The giddiness from early had settled in his heart and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, even if he knew it was ruining his tough image in front of Ian. He felt the urge to do something a little crazy and out of character. It was like he was high on just living, just being around Ian, and it was surreal how he wished he could do something daring.

An idea had implanted itself in Mickey’s mouth months ago and he wasn’t sure how to shake it. It was the gayest thing ever, but he’d become a little obsessed with Ian’s lips. He knew it probably wasn’t a smart idea. Someone could find out, but the desire to taste Ian’s soft-looking plump lips had been mounting. And now he was feeling warm and happy enough to perhaps make a move, it was dark enough that no one would see, so there was no risk of anyone telling Terry. He didn’t think Ian would mind, he’d caught him staring at him enough times to tell that he was into him.

“Are you happy?” Ian asked as he finished off his beer and leaned toward Mickey. He could tell that the redhead was drunk, from the glaze over his eyes and the red in his cheeks, but Mickey knew he probably didn’t look any better.

“It may or may not be my best birthday yet,” Mickey admitted sheepishly and he was glad it was so dark that Gallagher couldn’t see the blush creeping across his cheeks.

Instead, Ian laughed and bumped their shoulders together. “I’m glad, I know it’s not much but--”

“It’s good. It’s fine,” Mickey said quickly, wanting to make sure that Ian didn’t think he wasn’t grateful for what he’d done. It was a pain in the ass going to Wicker Park, made all the worse by the hipsters there. But more importantly, besides wanting to make the night better, he wanted to spend genuine time with him and no one else had ever made that a priority in his life.

The stupid soft, warm feeling was back, but instead of trying to ignore it, he leaned into it. Much the same way he was doing to Gallagher.

“I got you something else,” Ian said softly, making Mickey look at him. 

He hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten to him and he couldn’t help his eyes drift down to those lips he’d thought about for endless hours. He was so close to Ian, he could see his freckles, each individual brown one. His little puffs of breath were dancing across his own lips and the urge to lean forward was becoming unbearable. 

“It’s not much, but--” 

Without thinking much about what he was doing - he knew he’d freak out if he did - he leaned in and placed his lips right on top of Ian’s.

Ian let out a noise of surprise, which made Mickey move back almost immediately, but he felt the redhead’s hands in his hair keeping him where he was. Mickey knew if he hadn’t just downed four - maybe? - beers, he wouldn’t have leaned in to kiss him, but there was no place he’d rather be. He tasted even better than he thought he would. The softness of Ian’s lips grazed against his own and Mickey opened his mouth as Ian tentatively asked permission. The softness of the kiss had rapidly started to vanish as the passion began to mount between them. 

He felt one of Ian’s hands move from his hair, downward to his waist, scooting him closer. Mickey’s own hands were framing Ian’s face as their kiss deepened. He could feel Ian’s tongue brushing against his own and the feeling made bumps appear across his skin, despite the sticky heat. He moved one of his hands down Ian’s face to rest gently against his neck creating a dichotomy against the roughness of the kisses.

Getting lost in Ian’s taste, Mickey suddenly pushed away from him when he felt his hand begin to rub over his cock. 

“Sorry, fuck, I’m sorry,” Ian said hastily standing up and looking at him with wide, green eyes.

“Wait, no, it’s - it’s fine,” Mickey quickly reassured him.

Ian stared at him for a moment, trying to understand what Mickey had just said. “It’s - it’s okay?” he asked hesitantly.

Mickey nodded as he continued to breathe heavily, his mind trying to wrap around what they’d just done.

“Mickey, “ Ian began quietly, “are you, uh, you know?” 

He stared at the soft green material of Ian’s shirt as he contemplated the question. He wasn’t sure how to answer that question. He’d never really wanted to think about it before. He knew that he didn’t like women. He knew that. But admitting that he was _gay_ wasn’t something he wanted to think about, ever. Not when he had Terry and the rest of his family viewing being a fag as the worst thing you could be - worse than a rapist, murderer, even a pedophile. 

But kissing Ian, _that_ felt like the first right thing he’d ever done in his life.

Instead of answering, he made a gesture for Ian to sit back down and he murmured, “c’mere.” 

Ian obeyed him and sat statue still beside him on the bench. And then slowly, to give Ian enough time to pull away, he leaned forward and cupped his cheek before leaning back in and kissing him hard on the lips. Ian quickly returned the pressure in the kiss and they were lost to each other in the dark of the night at the dugouts. 

Mickey couldn’t remember a better birthday than just sitting here making out under the stars with Ian.

And that was probably the gayest thing he ever thought, but he didn’t give a shit when he knew no one would find out anyway.

* * *

_2019_

It was difficult to focus on work knowing that Ian was out there somewhere without his meds or thinking no one cared about him. He hated the guilty feeling that settled in his stomach that only seemed to worsen during the day. He was snippy with the customers and he’d nearly taken down a pre-teen who he thought was stealing discount jewelry to the point where his manager told him to go home early.

He grumbled some excuse that had to do with family issues and then headed back to the Southside. However, as he waited for the L, he decided to head to Boystown instead intent on finding Ian. He knew today was his day off, so really he could be anywhere in the city, but he figured that he was probably at one of the gay bars drowning himself in his sorrows. That’s where he’d be if he was having a shitty day, he reasoned.

Well, maybe not the gay bar part, but the bar part he’d be partaking in.

He had just gotten off the train in Boystown and for a minute felt like this was a mistake. How was he going to find Ian when he had no idea if he was in this part of the city? 

He ignored his doubts and began to walk around and hope for the best. He passed restaurants, CVS, and a sex toy shop without any luck. While standing outside of some bar smoking a cigarette, he wondered if Ian even wanted to be found.

But he also knew that if it was him, he’d want Ian to come find him. If he’d run off, he’d want to be found, specifically by Ian, and he tried not to look into that too much. So he continued onward to look for the ginger haired man.

Night was coming quickly and the streets were becoming more crowded with bar hoppers. He was beginning to lose his patience when he felt a vibration against his leg. He picked up when he saw that Mandy was calling him.

“What?” he snipped.

He heard a shuffling, a ‘here,’ and then Lip’s voice.

“You out looking for Ian?”

Mickey debated if he should say ‘no’ but the anxious knot in his stomach prompted him to confirm that he was.

“We just left the last of his usual haunts…” Lip trailed off. “He’s not there.”

“How long you been looking for?” Mickey asked watching a pair of Drag Queens smoking across the street.

“Since 5 when I got off work. Fiona was wondering if he was going to come into Patsy’s, but he never showed up.”

“Why would he when he’s not working today?” Mickey snipped itching for another cigarette.

There was a pause on Lip’s end and he said, “Oh, I thought he was. Listen, if you want to help--”

“What makes you say that?” Mickey snarled.

Lip was quiet for a moment and then in a low voice he said, “come on, Mickey. I want to find him as badly as you do.”

Mickey didn’t say anything to that, instead, waiting for Lip to go on.

“He used to work at the White Swallow in Boystown. I’ve searched the teen community center, the LGBTQA+ places he used to hang out, and Mandy and I checked The Alibi, but we can’t find him. We’re on the other side of town and we won’t get over there for about an hour, so could you check--”

“The White Swallow?”

“Or The Fairytale, sometimes he’d work there too.” 

Mickey was quiet as he let that sink in and with more weariness than he meant he asked, “what happens if we don’t find him?”

“We will. It takes a few days of not taking his pills to really get...he’s just angry, not - not manic,” Lip said quietly.

Mickey tossed that tidbit of information around as he tried to find some comfort in it, but the idea of Ian being in some gay bar trying to pick up guys to make himself feel better only made him feel more uncomfortable.

And if he was really doing some soul searching, jealous.

He hung up on Lip and then searched White Swallow on his phone. Seeing that it was only a few blocks away, he began to walk toward it, almost afraid of what he’d find when he got there.

* * *

Mickey felt like an idiot the moment he walked into the gay bar. He made a mental note to demand $20 from Lip when he saw him next because that door fee was fucking expensive. As he walked into the dark building, he immediately began to walk through the bar in search of Ian. He figured it would be easy to find the redhead in the dimly lit place, but the myriad of men rubbing on each other made it more difficult to focus on one person that he thought it would be. He felt a mix of jealousy seeing them - like he had when they were at the Bon Jovi concert and they’d seen those two guys kissing - and discomfort at being so far out of his elements. He tried to ignore the twinge of disgust that Terry had embedded in him at seeing two men act in such an unmanly fashion, but he still felt it there, sitting as if waiting to burst free. 

The truth was, he wasn’t really disgusted at seeing these men make out or grind on each other, he knew it was some form of self-loathing, he wasn’t that far out of contact with his emotions, but Terry’s voice was still saying “Milkovich men aren’t faggots” in that snarled way he talked. A burning sensation began as he moved through the club and then seemed to overflow when he spotted Ian sitting at the bar with some other guy. His eyes zeroed in on the way the other man’s hand was moving up and down Ian’s thigh and before he fully knew what he was doing, he was stalking over toward them, ready to rip the man’s hand from the redhead’s leg.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Mickey snapped coming to stand right behind Ian and the guy that was touching him.

Ian looked at him with a furrowed brow and he could tell right off the bat that he was drunk. His eyes were glossy and everytime he breathed, Mickey could smell the beer and whiskey.

“Fuck,” Mickey said and then looked at the guy beside him. He looked pointedly down at the guy’s hand and he seemed to stare right back at him as if challenging him.

“Fucking leave, now, glitter-stones or I’ll fuck you up,” Mickey threatened.

The guy stared at him as if deciding if he was joking or not. “Settle down, I didn’t realize you guys were together--”

Mickey didn’t let him finish before he was grabbing the guy by his collar and tossing him to the floor. He glared down at him as the guy scurried away, like a cockroach. He scoffed in irritation at how much of a pansy the guy was and then he turned to Ian who was staring at him with a mix of amusement and frustration.

“How’d you find me?”

“Lucky guess.”

“I didn’t think this was your scene,” Ian said, continuing to smirk at him.

“It’s not, I’ve been looking for your ass for the last five hours. Now, let’s go home.”

Ian laughed quietly and for a moment Mickey wasn’t even sure if he was laughing at all since he could barely hear over the music.

“Come on, man, don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be. Your family’s worried,” Mickey said, leaning in so he knew Ian could hear him.

Ian moved away and grabbed the beer from the bar before he began to walk through the sea of people. Mickey followed him hoping that Ian was giving in to him and they’d be on the way back to the Southside in just a few minutes, but instead, Ian took them to a dark corner of the room and sat on a stool next to a vacant table. It was quieter over here, but not by much.

“Why?” Ian asked.

“Why what?”

“Why do you fucking care?” 

Mickey gawked at him as Ian took a long sip from his beer and then set it down on the sticky black table. Ian was looking directly at him in a challenging manner that he’d never seen before. It was making Mickey’s heartbeat at an alarming speed and if his instincts were telling him anything, it was to tread lightly.

“What?” Mickey asked when he knew he couldn’t stall any longer. He hated talking about feelings and shit and now Gallagher was making him discuss them in a fucking gay bar of all places.

“You fucking heard me, Mick, why do you care? You’ve never seemed to care before when you tossed me out of your life,” Ian yelled over the music.

Mickey stared at him for a moment trying to contain his anger, but watching Ian glaring at him over the rim of his cup was too much. Where the fuck did he get off when it was Ian who had disappeared on him? Who had run away from him?

“Are you fucking kidding me? How _I_ tossed _you_ out of my life? What world are you fucking living in, Gallagher? You fucking _left me_ in the hospital _alone_. I waited for you for weeks to come see me. Iggy--” Mickey stopped talking as he tried to get a hold of his feelings as they began to spill from him like a cracked glass letting water out. 

He had thought about whether or not they’d ever had this conversation, but he had figured they could take the easy way out and ignore what had happened between them. Keep it in the past. Apparently, Gallagher wanted to discuss it _now_ , and Mickey - Mickey would be fine if they forgot about their shared history.

It was easier to be friends anyway and ignore what happened all those years ago when he let Ian into his heart.

“Fuck you, Gallagher. I came to find you. Your family made a mistake. I saw Frank stealing from the house this morning - your pills included. They know that you didn’t flush your pills. I’m - I’m just trying to fucking help.” Mickey stopped himself before he let anything else slip that he didn’t want to talk to Ian about.

He was just here because he didn’t want his friend to backslide. 

That was it.

Ian began to laugh as Mickey finished talking and the frustration bubbled to the surface.

“The fuck you laughing for?” Mickey snarled as Ian continued to chuckle. He grabbed

Ian’s beer and downed the rest of it in one gulp needing the reprieve from his mind and for something to do with his hands.

“You fucking thinking you’re helping. My family only is worried because it’s ingrained in them. Before my family worried about Monica, now it’s me. It’s what they do. And you’re not helping anyone. You’re just making sure that your conscious is clear from any fucked up things I do. You don’t give a shit, just like my family. They think - they think I’d flush my pills when they go missing. Instead of talking to me about it, they accuse me. And you, instead of fucking talking to me, you ignore me. Well I’m fucking tired of being used and ignored.” he exclaimed. 

Mickey opened his mouth to yell about how Ian didn’t get it - he never had about what he had to deal with because of his father, but instead he said, “I’m sorry.”

Ian blinked rapidly as if he hadn’t heard him correctly. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. Then he turned around and began to walk out of the club. Mickey was quick on his heels, thanking his lucky stars that Ian seemed to have finally agreed to go with him. Instead, Ian turned down an alleyway and leaned against the wall. He was looking down at his shoes, but when Mickey came to stand in front of him, he looked up and Mickey was shocked to see the sadness that lay behind his green eyes.

“Why are you here?” Ian asked.

“I told you, to find you. Your family is - they’re fucking freaked. I needed to - I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Mickey said quietly.

Ian looked down at his shoes again and Mickey sighed irritably that they weren’t on their way to the L. Couldn’t they have whatever this heart to heart was on their way home?

“Ian--”

“Why don’t we ever talk about that night?” Ian asked softly.

Mickey felt his heart jump into his throat at the question and the familiar queasy feeling that always went hand-in-hand with that night reared its ugly head.

“What are you fucking talking about?”

“The night Terry found us. Why don’t we talk about it?” Ian asked softly.

Mickey breathed out through his nostrils at the question and looked around uncomfortably as if he thought someone was going to pop out of the dumpster and accuse them of something unsavory.

“I don’t want to talk--”

“Up until Terry came in, that was the best night of my life.” Ian interrupted and when he looked up, the sadness had been replaced by glassy memories. “I really loved - I loved--” Ian stopped talking and took a deep breath.

Mickey was positive he could hear the hammering of his heart as Ian struggled over the word ‘love.’ What did he love? Mickey wondered. Did he love that night? Did he love him? What the fuck did he love? He opened his mouth to ask when Ian continued talking.

“After that night, I felt like I lost my best friend - I fucking did. I mean...I know you don’t like to acknowledge what was happening between us, but I just figured after everything, you would’ve fucking, I don’t know, wanted to talk. I mean, we were _friends_ , but we were also something _more_. I thought of you as my - I mean, I trusted you and you just - you just ignored me. Like you’re doing now. I don’t want to lose - to lose you. As a friend.” Ian rambled.

Mickey ignored the part where Ian said ‘as a friend’ and instead focused on everything that came before. He remembered their time together, those years were some of the happiest of his life. He hadn’t realized it until it was over, but it was the happiest he’d ever been. Fucking Terry ruined it, like he did everything. 

“I was in the hospital, Ian, why didn’t you come visit me?” Mickey blurted out.

Ian frowned, “I did. I tried to.” 

There was a long moment of silence as Mickey let that settle in, but once it did, he wanted to ask so many more questions. He just wasn’t sure where to begin.

“Doesn’t matter now. It was a long time ago,” Ian said softly looking back down at his shoes.

Mickey moved forward and before he could think about what he was doing, he reached forward to tilt his face up so he could look at him properly. He didn’t mean to, but he boxed Ian in, afraid he was going to disappear again.

“You really came to see me in the hospital?” Mickey asked quietly.

Ian nodded, “yeah, a few times.”

“Why didn’t I ever see you?” Mickey shuffled closer needing to understand why he had different memories of that time.

“I was told to stop coming,” Ian confirmed his eyes looking straight into Mickey’s soul.

Mickey swallowed thickly, “By who?”

He didn’t realize how close he’d gotten to him until he saw his eyes flicker down to his

lips and he had just enough time to think about how he should take a step back when Ian’s lips landed on Mickey’s. For a brief moment, Mickey allowed himself to give in to the softness of Ian’s lips brushing against his, but then panic set in and he pushed him away. He heard Ian grunt at the impact, but Mickey was focused on stumbling backwards and trying to right himself.

“What the fuck?” Mickey yelled in shock. They were in fucking public! Anyone could see them, but more importantly, he wasn’t - how could Ian - he knew that - fuck!

He watched as Ian’s face turned a ruby red and he looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“What the fuck?” Mickey exclaimed again wiping a thumb across his lips. “Why - why would you - I mean - Gallagher, what the fuck?” he stuttered.

Ian looked downtrodden and remained silent as he continued to sputter out curses. Mickey was too focused on looking at the mouth of the alleyway, panicking over who could’ve seen them kiss, however, quickly it was.

When he looked back at Ian, he was staring at him intently. Those green eyes fixated on him. “Iggy.” he said.

“What?” 

“Iggy told me to stop coming. He said you didn’t want anything to do with me. Said that I was getting in the way and I was why Terry beat the shit out of you. He blamed the whole thing on me.” 

And with that, he stared after Ian in shock as he left the alleyway and walked into the dark Chicago streets. 


	9. Sluggish Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian has a depressive episode. Mickey takes care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who is reading this story! I'm so glad you guys are liking it! I really appreciate the comments and the kudos as well because I love getting your feedback! I hope you enjoy this chapter and please leave a comment and let me know what you think! 
> 
> Also, there may be some possible triggers for depression, just want to let you know.

_ 2019 _

Sitting at a bus stop with throbbing feet, Ian couldn’t seem to build up the energy to move after wandering around the city for the last few hours. A third bus had just pulled away from the stop and asked if he was getting on, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. It was past 1am and he knew the bus system was going to be stopping for a few hours, but he had no motivation to go home.

He felt like all of the anger and irritation at his family and at Mickey had melted away and instead turned to cold detachment and bone-deep forlornness the more he walked around Chicago. 

Now, he just felt drained and exhausted.

He’d texted Fiona that he was fine a few hours ago, but he knew she was probably fretting in her motherly hen way. 

He didn’t want her to worry, but he was tired of her and Lip constantly waiting for him to fuck up. He knew they were doing everything they could to help him, but it was exhausting and nerve wracking to have them so worried about him fucking up or having a psychotic break or even just being slightly out of character. He felt like everything he did was being watched and he constantly had to put on this happy-go-lucky facade. He found himself in a constant state of wearing a mask of strength, purpose, and contentment that he didn’t feel. He didn’t want to scare them, but he also wanted to live his life - he wanted to be  _ normal _ . Most importantly, it was difficult to win back their trust when they only saw him as someone they had to babysit - another liability.

Another  _ Monica _ to watch out for.

Then there was the shit with Mickey.

He’d long ago sobered up and realized how badly he’d fucked that up with the brunette. He couldn’t believe he’d fucking tried to kiss him. He couldn’t believe he’d given in like that. He doubted Mickey would want to talk to him ever again. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d packed his shit up and left while Ian was wandering the Chicago streets.

Honestly, he really hadn’t meant to kiss him, but he was so close, he smelled so good, he just - he fucking  _ missed _ him. Missed how they used to be, missed how Mickey used to look at him like he was  _ it _ , missed him in the way an amputee misses a fucking leg. He knew it was fucking stupid and Mickey would react badly, but he couldn’t help himself. He just wanted - he just wanted to kiss him. 

He knew it wasn’t fair of him to have made a move, Mickey was dealing with a lot himself. He was denying a part of who he was because, well, Ian figured it had something to do with the night Terry caught them and how he had to deal with all of that shit alone because Ian wasn’t there. 

And there was a whole other layer of guilt he felt even though it wasn’t really his fault. He had tried to see Mickey, several times. He’d visited the hospital, he’d gone to the house, he’d even waited outside to see if he’d catch a glimpse of him, like a fucking stalker.

But Iggy had told him off and eventually, Ian had walked away.

He just wished he’d tried harder.

Maybe they wouldn’t be here now.

Maybe they’d be fucking happy.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to face him in the morning - if he ever got up off this bench.

He hadn’t meant to upset his family.

He hadn’t meant to anger Mickey.

He just - he was fucked up and he felt like he was floundering.

Nothing in his life seemed to be where he wanted it to be. 

It was a sobering thought as he stared across the street at some bar hoppers who were laughing at each other.

He wished that he could just--

A vibration went off in his pocket and slowly, as if he were moving through a pool of honey, he pulled his phone out and sighed when he saw Fiona was calling.

“Ian? Where are you?” Fiona’s voice crackled over the phone and he felt the guilt only a mother figure could instill in him for making her worry.

“I’ll be home soon,” he paused. “I’m sorry, I just--”

“No, I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have - we’re just worried,” Fiona said softly.

There was a long silence as the siblings sat on the phone with each other, neither knowing what to say.

“Are you coming home?” she asked after the lengthy pause.

“Yeah, I’m catching the bus now,” Ian said seeing another bus coming down the street in the distance.

He heard shuffling and then a few whispers, but he couldn’t make out the words. He wondered who she was talking to. 

“We can go to the clinic in the morning,” Fiona said quietly and Ian let out a long breathe out at her statement. He wished that everything didn’t have to come back to his disorder. He wished Fiona could just say she was sorry and everything would be okay, like she would when they were kids and were left alone during Monica and Frank shitty benders. Now, it was about making sure he didn’t go maniac because he missed a few days of his pills. He just felt like a burden instead of her brother.

He felt his throat begin to close up as the bus rolled to a stop in front of him and he hung up the phone before heaving himself from the bench and climbing the steps. His legs felt like they were led. His head felt so drowsy and heavy. 

He just wanted to go home and sleep.

Forget that this shit day ever happened.

Forget what he’d done and start over.

* * *

_ 2010 _

The leaves on the trees were beginning to turn into vibrant oranges, browns, and reds, which meant that the cold Chicago winter was right around the corner. But Ian could barely see those bright beautiful colors now when the darkness had taken over the city. The only light in the area was the full moon that hung high in the sky and was paving the path toward his house.

He had started back up in school two months earlier and was busier than ever. Balancing school, work, ROTC, and his secret trysts with Mickey could be overwhelming, but he couldn’t ever remember feeling happier.

He had found someone he could trust; who he enjoyed being around and who just seemed to  _ get it _ . Ian had liked Mickey for awhile, but he’d never thought he’d return his feelings. And while it wasn’t perfect - Mickey had a lot going on in that head of his - it was pretty damn near it.

And Ian wouldn’t trade it for the world, he just figured, eventually, Mickey would work to overcome it. 

With Ian’s help, of course. 

As he closed up the store and began his walk home in one of the last balmy evenings of the year, he was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice the figure that was walking behind him.

It wasn’t until he stopped at the crosswalk and began to search for his pack of cigarettes did he look behind him to find the smiling figure of Mickey who was already holding out a light.

It was the Zippo lighter he’d stolen for him for his birthday a few months earlier and every time Ian saw him use it, a cozy feeling settled in his chest.

“You know you better watch out, Firecrotch, there are some unsavory people around here. You could easily get jumped in this neighborhood,” Mickey said, blowing out smoke from the cigarette dangling from his lips.

Rolling his eyes, he shoved his shoulder lightly, “I heard your loud ass footsteps a block away. I was just wondering what you were going to do.” 

Mickey snorted and pushed him back, “yeah, whatever. You’re the one with clunky Frankenstein feet.” 

Ian smirked and opened his mouth to retort when Mickey nodded his head and he turned around to see it was time to walk. They easily fell into step beside one another, both used to matching the other one’s pace from years of wandering around the Southside together.

“How was work?” Mickey asked casually.

Shrugging, Ian inhaled his cigarette before answering. “Boring, especially without you there.” 

Mickey rolled his eyes playfully, but Ian saw the corners of his mouth curling up.

“Listen, what are you doing next weekend?” Mickey asked and if Ian hadn’t glanced at him right then, he would’ve missed the biting of his lower lip - a telltale sign that he was nervous.

A shock of warmth shot through him and he wondered what Mickey had in mind and why he looked so hesitant to ask him.

“Nothing, probably. Working on trig and an English essay that’s due--”

“Yeah, okay, okay, Army, I wasn’t trying to get a play-by-play of your schoolwork,” Mickey said and Ian laughed.

“If you were still going to school, maybe I wouldn’t have to give you a play-by-play. Maybe you’d be learning this stuff yourself,” Ian said pointedly.

“What’s the point, man? I’m fucked for life anyway. I told you, my future holds prison sentences and drug runs.”

A sinking feeling began as Ian listened to Mickey draw a picture of the future he was expecting for himself. They had had this conversation quite a few times by now, so it was nothing new - right down to the feelings he had about it - but it was still shitty to think about.

And if Ian was being honest, late at night when he couldn’t fall asleep, he’d taken to envisioning a future with Mickey where they were both out of the Southside and living together... 

But now that they were, well, Ian wasn’t sure what they were, but in his head he referred to Mickey as his ‘boyfriend,’ he’d taken to nagging him a bit more about the future and he pushed back just as hard by stating how fucked he was and to forget it. 

He tried to hide the smile that occurred when he thought about Mickey as his  _ boyfriend _ , but he saw Mickey glance over at him and narrow his eyes.

“Whatchu looking at, Gallagher?” 

“Nothing.”

Ian let out a soft chuckle and bumped his shoulder against Mickey’s. He even let his hand graze over his, even though he knew how Mickey felt about PDA. 

He was afraid his dad would catch them. 

But this part of the Southside had a bunch of lights out cause some asshole had run into a streetlight and knocked the power out a few days earlier and since they were in a low income area, the electricians hadn’t gotten out here yet. So really, it was pitch black and there was no one around, so Ian was feeling a little daring.

He still caught the annoyed look Mickey shot him in the moonlight that cast a glow across his face and made his blue eyes seem even more luminous.

“Come on, man, you know the rules,” Mickey muttered.

Ian sighed heavily, “couldn’t help myself.”

He said a shadow of a smile grace Mickey’s features and he was surprised when he felt one of his fingers curl around his own. He knew it sounded queer to even think - but he felt butterflies begin to form as Mickey’s finger wrap around his own. It wasn’t hand holding or anything, but it was something a little more than Mickey had done before and he felt his lips split into a wide smile. 

He felt like he was slowly cracking Mickey open and it made him feel like he’d achieved something, even though it was such a small gesture.

He ducked his head, not wanting to look too much like a puppy in love, but when he looked up again, Mickey was watching him.

“So, this weekend? You wanna come over?”

Ian stopped walking, the question catching him off guard.

“Like to your house?” He asked, shocked.

Mickey had stopped too and came to stand in front of him, both of his eyebrows raised and his head tilted to the side as he waited for Ian to overcome his shock. 

Ian noted he hadn’t dropped his finger and he tugged him a bit closer, so they were toe-to-toe.

“Yeah, to my house, numbnuts. Where else?” Mickey said, but Ian noticed how he wouldn’t look him in the eye and the nervous lip biting was back.

“What about your dad?” Ian asked dumbly, “or your brothers?

“On a run.”

There was a pause as Ian tried to settle the rapid beating of his heart and then he said, “Yeah, I guess.” Attempting nonchalance, he knew the large smile on his face gave him away.

Mickey smirked at him and then tugged him into an alleyway between two houses, deep into the shadows to the point where Ian could barely even see his  _ boyfriend’s _ face. 

But he felt soft lips land on his, and he breathed in that sweet and spicy smell that was so purely  _ Mickey Milkovich _ . Settling into the blossom of warmth and trust and, dare he even think, _ love, _ he knew he’d stay in the shadows forever if it meant feeling like this with his  _ boyfriend. _

* * *

_ 2019 _

It always felt like he was swimming through mud. He’d never understand that. His brain was foggy; his body sluggish. His eyelids felt too heavy and he stopped trying to fight it at some point, he was too exhausted. He needed so much energy to move, to fucking talk even. He just wanted to sleep. 

So that’s what he did.

It could’ve been for a day or it could’ve been for a week.

He just needed to rest.

Too tired to do anything else.

Despite knowing what to look for, Ian had always realized way too late when he was in the midst of a depressive episode. He’d realize sometimes days into it that he hadn’t moved for a week sometimes more. Time always seemed to move strangely while he was in one of his low points. He’d think he’d only been asleep for a day, but it was always a few weeks, sometimes a month that he’d finally feel like himself or at least a little more like himself to get out of bed and do something slightly normal. 

He generally realized how badly off he was if he was able to even get out of bed to use the bathroom. He’d only get up when he knew he couldn’t wait any longer or if everyone in the house was sleeping, so he didn’t have to interact with inquiring and worried eyes. If he was really bad, and he had been when he was first diagnosed, he wouldn’t even bother getting out of bed when he had to use the bathroom. That had led to some terribly embarrassing moments.

The thing was, it had been a long time since he’d had one so bad that when Fiona came to ask him if he was able to come in for work, he couldn’t even answer her. He hadn’t really been sleeping, just dozing when she’d knocked on the door.

He felt her hovering behind him and touched a warm hand to his shoulders, but turning over to even acknowledge her seemed like a hardship.

“...call if you need anything...Mickey is downstairs,” she said quietly.

He closed his eyes, the exhaustion getting to be too much. As he began to drift off, he vaguely wondered why she was telling him Mickey was here.

It was dark out when he woke up again and he could hear people downstairs. He had to go to the bathroom though and he couldn’t put it off much longer, unless he wanted to pull a Carl and piss out the window.

Instead, he rolled to face the door and stared at the accordion, trying to will himself to get out of bed. 

His bladder felt like it was going to explode and while he’d done it before during really bad episodes - he didn’t want to lay in a puddle of his own piss, trying to get the energy to stand up. He figured if he was able to move and get out of bed to use the bathroom, then this episode wouldn’t be as bad as other ones he had. It was a comforting thought for a bit at least.

Very slowly, slower than when he moved when he had the spins and was hungover or when he’d broken his collarbone when he was little, he sat up on the bed. He already felt exhausted, so he placed his head in his hands as he tried to will himself to move.

Suddenly, the accordion door slid open and Ian closed his eyes to prepare himself for the inevitable questions and worry that would be waiting for him when he looked up. But his head was feeling so heavy and big, that lifting it seemed like such a hassle. 

“Hey...uh, Fiona had to close the diner and, well, I was going to make something for dinner. Do you - do you, uh, want...anything? You haven’t eaten in a few days, you must be hungry,” Mickey stuttered out.

Surprised to hear his voice, Ian slowly looked up and found Mickey standing in the doorway looking very unsure of himself. Ian watched him chew on his bottom lip and look at the wall instead of at Ian, but then he dropped his head back into his hands, needing the extra support. If Ian wasn’t feeling so bone-tired, he would’ve laughed or made a comment about Mickey’s obvious discomfort, whether it was because of his disease or because of last night, Ian doubted he’d ever know.

Instead of answering, Ian closed his eyes again and sunk further in on himself, his upper half almost curled over his bottom half.

“Ian?” Mickey asked softly.

He heard shuffling and then through the fog of his stupid brain, he felt him hesitate and then gently touch the back of his neck. If he wasn’t struggling to stay awake, Ian would’ve been surprised at the tentative touch, but he was struggling to stay awake long enough to use the bathroom.

“Ian? Do you want to eat something? I feel, I mean, you haven’t eaten in - in a few days,” Mickey said and Ian could still hear that note of discomfort.

He didn’t mean to make Mickey feel uncomfortable, but trying to form words right now was taking so much effort.

He was silent, but he leaned slightly toward Mickey and he was surprised when he let him. He breathed out shakily, preparing to ask for help to stand up, so he could head to the bathroom, when he felt Mickey’s hand move into his hair and begin to caress the tiny bristles there. 

“I’m sorry,” Mickey said quietly. “Shit’s so fucked up...” Ian heard him gulp and he stopped moving his hand.

“Bathroom,” Ian croaked out in response and he felt Mickey’s hand drop away.

“What? Do you need--”

“Bathroom,” Ian said and with as much energy as he could expend, he lifted his hand up to Mickey. After a moment of holding his hand out to air, Mickey took a hold and wrapped his other arm around Ian’s waist before carefully helping him down the hallway to the bathroom. When they got there, Mickey made sure he was okay before leaving him. 

After he was finished, Mickey helped him back to his room and back into bed. He fell asleep almost immediately.

When he woke up, it was night again. Despite the sludge that seemed to fill his bones, he slowly rolled onto his back, feeling still unlike himself. But then he saw with surprise Mickey dawdling awkwardly in the corner.

“Sorry, thought you were still sleeping,” he said uncomfortably.

Ian made a soft noise and moved his heavy legs to make room for him. Another wave of surprise came over him when Mickey sat down. He began to thumb at his nose and focused on the wall. It was silent for so long that Ian began to drift off again. But then the quiet was broken by Mickey’s voice.

“You’ve been out for a few days,” Mickey said quietly.

Ian smiled sleepily and opened his mouth to say something, but he was already falling back asleep again even though he wanted to stay awake and talk to Mickey.

* * *

Jerked from a dream of sitting on the beach and swimming in the ocean, the thirst was overwhelming him. His mouth was so dry and felt like a cotton ball. He reached over to his nightstand to find a glass of water full and waiting for him. Chugging most of the glass down before sitting back in bed, he felt for the first time in days as if he wasn’t going to fall asleep any moment.

There was a soft knock on his door and Mickey stuck his head in, a relieved look appearing there.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

Ian nodded at him and settled back in bed, scooting over, so he wasn’t in the middle of it and watched as Mickey came to sit down.

“How you feeling?” he asked.

Ian cleared his throat, “just peachy.” He was surprised at how croaky he sounded and drank the remaining water in the glass before laying back on his pillow, already feeling like he’d extended himself too much.

The room filled with silence and Ian felt a strange sense of deja vu.

“You?” Ian whispered.

Mickey turned away from him and he watched his shoulders shrug. “Works fine. Mandy and Lip came over for dinner the other night...Carl got a promotion at work. Fiona said that your job is still waiting for you, so, uh, just get healthy soon. For us.” 

Ian stared at his back as he took in what he’d just said. He wasn’t sure what to make out of the ‘for us’ part, but he couldn’t deny that it made him feel a little lighter, like something had shifted while he was struggling through his episode.

“How long?” Ian whispered.

“About a week and a half,” Mickey responded instantly, glancing over his shoulder at him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Ian said, but in all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he was sorry about kissing Mickey or being the same disappointment he’d been to his family since the doctors had told his siblings he was bipolar.

“Don’t be. I’ve been sleeping on the couch, Fiona seems cool with it, and it’s not about the bipolar stuff or the - the other shit…” there was an awkward pause as Mickey seemed to be summing his courage up to tell him something.

“Is it okay to, uh, I want to say something,” Mickey said and Ian could see him raising one of his arms and he knew he was doing some nervous tick, whether it was chewing his lip or thumbing the area over his lip, Ian couldn’t be sure since he was faced away from him.

“If it’s about the kis--” Ian said in that same quiet voice, but Mickey made a disagreeable noise.

“It’s about - were you being honest about Iggy? About what he said?” Mickey interrupted.

“Yeah.”

There was a longer pause and Ian watched as Mickey shifted on the bed and seemed to turn more away from him as if to keep his face hidden.

“Okay.”

“Mick--”

“I want to tell you this, so can you - can you just listen?”

“Yeah,” Ian said, staring at his back, wishing he’d turn around and face him. 

“I just - after, after all that shit with my dad and when he found us on  _ that _ night, I was - fuck, Ian,  _ I was fucked up _ . Iggy had told me all this shit about you, it just - it fucked me up about how I viewed everything. I was in pain...more than physical pain.

“I was so happy, when we were together, I was so happy. And then all of that happiness seemed to just...it  _ disappeared _ . And I was angry and pissed off. When I told you, I haven’t seen Terry in years, that’s true. But sometimes I feel like his ghost haunts me. Except he’s not dead. I just - I hear his voice and he tells me all this shit that I am and it just - it fucking  _ gets to you _ . 

“I thought about it when I was in prison and was just fucking guys. I mean, there I had an excuse, but I figured I could just like ignore that fucking urge when I got out, but I can’t. I know I can’t. But it’s hard to get over that when my own father almost killed me and the guy I’d - I thought I - who I cared about had fucking disappeared. 

“You’d just up and left, like - like I was  _ nothing _ ,” Mickey said quietly. He seemed to get quieter and quieter during his speech, but Ian could hear him perfectly clear, it seemed to be the only thing he could focus on.

“It’s fucked up about your pills, we are trying to refill the prescription, but you’re going to have to go to the clinic. That’s what Fiona says anyway,” Mickey said and there was a note of distress in his tone and Ian vaguely wondered what had happened while he was dealing with his own shit. 

Ian felt his lips crack into a smile and then he let his head lolly to the side to study Mickey’s back, the hard sinews the black tank he was wearing couldn’t hide.

“Thanks for telling me. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, that I didn’t do--” Ian said raspy and he struggled to move and sit up against the wall, but he was still feeling bone-tired and slumped back into his original position. 

“It’s fine. It’s...it’s no one’s fault,” Mickey said tightly.

There was a long pause as Mickey stared down at his hands and Ian watched him.

“Once you feel better, we’ll go to the clinic and get your prescription,” Mickey said reassuringly.

Ian made a noncommittal noise, already beginning to feel the telltale signs of weariness slide through his body. He felt proud of himself for moving around and talking, but he also was annoyed he couldn’t do more when he’d been so out of it for almost two weeks.

“And listen, man, it’s not your fault. It was fucking Frank. Your siblings know that. It just - shit got complicated. But they’re worried, I’m - I mean, I’m worried too,” he mumbled the last part and Ian glanced over at him in surprise.

“I figured you’d want to kill me for--”

“Water under the bridge,” Mickey said, glancing over his shoulder at him. “Also, it’s been almost two fucking weeks. Shit’s old news,” he added.

Ian felt himself crack another grin and it didn’t feel so strange.

“You’re a good friend,” Ian said, already feeling another wave of exhaustion overcome him. He began to feel his eyelids closing and before he knew it, he was out again.

When he woke up, he was surprised to feel more energetic than he had in some time. He laid in bed staring at the ceiling he knew so well and thought back to the dream he had been having, but it seemed fuzzy and he couldn’t catch all the details. He remembered he was walking in the moonlight and someone else was with him. He didn’t know what they had been talking about, but he remembered the way the glow of the moonlight lit up the world and made him feel like anything was possible…

There was a gentle knock on the door and then it pushed open.

He wasn’t surprised anymore to find Mickey standing there with a plate looking as uncomfortable as ever.

“What are you doing?” Ian asked, narrowing his eyes at Mickey. 

Mickey shifted from one foot to another, “you gotta eat, man.”

Frowning, Ian shifted until he was sitting against the wall, making a mental note that the simple move wasn’t wearing him out. He watched as Mickey’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly schooled his features.

“You hungry?”

Ian shrugged but let Mickey place the plate on the bedside table before sitting at the end of the bed.

“Thanks,” Ian muttered and then took the sandwich and slowly broke it into pieces to make it less overwhelming to eat.

“How are you?” Mickey asked and Ian turned to look at him and noticed the tired circles under his eyes. He wondered if he looked just as exhausted.

“Tired,” Ian muttered, ripping up a piece of his sandwich until it was as big as his fingernail and he moved it to his mouth to eat.

He was quiet and Ian noted he hadn’t answered how he was doing, so he spoke up, needing to know, “you?”

Muttering a ‘fine’, the corner of Mickey’s mouth tilted up, which caused Ian to smile softly.

“Are we okay?” Ian asked, putting another piece in his mouth.

Mickey nodded, “yeah, we’re good.”

They fell into silence once more as Mickey watched Ian eat the torn up pieces of his sandwich. When he’d gotten almost all of it down, Ian put the plate on the bedside table and then looked down at his hands.

“You know how I ended up in the psych ward,” he asked rhetorically.

He looked up right as Mickey’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as the question filled the silence. 

“It’s stupid really. I told you I stole a helicopter and went AWOL. But I also stole a car, to get back to Chicago,” he paused as he took a long sip of the water beside his bed. He figured Mickey had been filling that too. It was becoming more and more evident that Mickey had been taking care of him while he’d been in his depressive episode. Each time he was awake and Mickey was there was a sign to him that perhaps they’d be able to repair their relationship.

“There was a baby in it. I freaked out. Left him at a fire station cause that’s what you’re supposed to do. Still got charged for kidnapping, though. Anyway, I came back to Chicago and one way or another I ended up setting a church on fire. I blew up a van too, but I think it was mostly the arson charge that got me thrown into the psych ward. That and the baby. They said if it was one thing or the other, then my sentencing wouldn’t have been as bad,” Ian paused and took another sip of water before going on. 

“They tried to get me into the actual prison at least court martial, but I wasn’t on any meds and I got kinda - well, I was paranoid, and I - they evaluated me and that was it. It was supposed to be five years,” Ian muttered, not fully understanding why he was telling Mickey this.

But then he remembered how hours or days or maybe even years ago, Mickey had sat with his back turned toward him and told him what happened to him - tried to explain at least why he had tried to turn a part of himself off after the shit with his dad.

“Fuck,” Mickey muttered and Ian chuckled croakily because what else could he say.

They fell into silence again and Ian noticed that Mickey had moved a little closer to him and a blanket of warmth seemed to crawl over him as if he was snuggling into his bed after a long day.

“What happened after that night? Where did you go? What happened with Iggy?” Mickey asked quietly.

Ian paused as he considered the question and he didn’t really want to answer. He wasn’t 100% sure when he ‘broke’ as he referred to it in his mind, but he wouldn’t put it past that night being what had inevitably set him off.

His doctors had told him that he wasn’t ‘broken’ and these things didn’t work that way, but Ian had clearly split his life in two: before Terry almost killing Mickey and after.

And after was when he took off to the army, afraid of Terry finishing the job, afraid of what Mickey would do if he saw him again, and sad because his boyfriend (only in his mind, they never labeled it) had tossed him to the side like he was nothing. He was in a bad place when he’d run off to the army and it just got progressively worse.

His siblings had tried to get him evaluated a few times, but every time they’d give him ultimatums, he’d take off to some random guy’s house he met at the club he had been working at, at the time and stay there until shit blew over.

“Thought you were dead for a while,” Ian paused as the familiar tightening occurred in his chest at the thought, but he pushed through it to choke out the rest of the story. “Then the EMTs came… they revived you and took you to the hospital. Iggy had called 911. Terry had broken my leg, so I couldn’t do much, but when the ambulance came, Terry got arrested. We went to the hospital, I was - I was fucking...I couldn’t believe you were dead,” Ian swallowed thickly and leaned against the cold wall, feeling lightheaded and exhausted even telling this story.

“After I was discharged, I tried to see you, but Iggy stopped me. Said you weren’t interested, stuff like that. He said I should leave you alone. It was better this way,” Ian said quietly.

Mickey made a ‘mhm’ noise and looked at the bedside table, to avoid his eyes.

“That it?” Mickey asked when Ian didn’t go on.

“I tried coming to your house a few times, before I left for the army. When Terry was still locked up, but Iggy never let me in.”

“Wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, I only stayed there a few days before I started to try to crash with other people and, well, you know the rest,” Mickey muttered.

“Yeah…” Ian trailed off and closed his eyes.

He felt Mickey get up and he opened his eyes again to find Mickey holding his plate and the empty glass of water he’d finished while telling his story.

“I’ll grab you more water.” Mickey said, glancing at him and then quickly away.

Ian nodded and scurried back under the covers, his eyes already too heavy to stay awake.

He heard Mickey shuffle out of the room and a strange sense of calm seemed to fall over him, knowing that he’d be back and everything would be okay, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to give too much away, but we're about halfway through and this chapter and the next one would (imo) be the climax. There will be triggers in the next one, just a forewarning, I'm sure you guys know what's coming. I'll make sure to mention in the author's note at the beginning of the next chapter. I did change the warning to one with violence, I haven't written the next chapter so I'm not sure how much graphic violence there will be, but I'll make sure to note it. Thanks again for reading!


	10. Mistakes Were Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey comes to a realization after talking to his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big chapter! The violence isn't as bad as I anticipated, but it's still there, so that's a trigger warning. Along with the homophobic language, that's a trigger warning, and there's smut too, if you're not too into that. I think thats all of them....
> 
> Thank you to those who are reading and commenting and kudoing! You guys are incredible. This chapter is pretty intense. It's like a rollercoaster. Editing it was difficult to say the least, still not sure about it, but I decided to post it since I wasn't sure what else I could do. Anyway, thanks so much for reading, let me know what you think!

_2019_

Mickey had never really taken care of anything in his life. He remembered when he was little, he wanted a dog. He’d even tried to steal one from a neighbor, but she’d caught him and told his dad about it before he’d finished the job.

Terry had beaten him not for trying to steal the dog, but for getting caught, and since then he hadn’t really wanted to worry about anything except himself.

And he barely did a good job with that.

After their mom died, he tried to take care of Mandy, but he wasn’t very good at that either. Once, she had a fever so high she could barely move. He’d tried to tell his dad, but he was too drunk to give a shit. (Mickey doubted he would have cared even if he was sober.) 

He wanted to bring her to the hospital, but they’d gotten a block before she refused to go any further, too tired and sick to move. The fever had ended up breaking a day later, but he remembered how fucking shitty he felt that he could barely take care of his own sister. 

He knew then that he was better off alone.

The only person he’d let down would be himself and he wouldn’t have to worry about being useless ever again.

But when Fiona asked him for his help with Ian, he found that he couldn’t say ‘no.’

When Ian didn’t get out of bed the morning after the gay bar, Mickey had that same familiar feeling slither into his body. That uselessness settled into his bones and a sickness twisted itself into a knot in his stomach. He couldn’t even help someone he cared about - because even if he tried to deny it, he did care about Ian. 

A lot.

He knew that, he wasn’t that disconnected with his emotions not to recognize he cared about the redhead. Long ago when they’d been teenagers, Mickey had cared about him deeply - definitely more than cared - and seeing and spending time with him again allowed those feelings to rise to the surface, despite him wishing they wouldn’t. It was just...he wasn’t sure what to do with it all, especially after he attempted to kiss him.

He’d thought about that attempted kiss a lot in the past week and a half while he was taking care of Ian. He thought about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t pushed him away. He’d wished he could’ve just let him kiss him without having to worry about the repercussions. While he watched Ian sleep, which is the only thing he did these days, Mickey let that moment replay in his mind over and over, but with a different ending.

Ian hadn’t walked away.

Mickey had taken him home.

Ian wouldn’t be struggling through this ‘depressive episode’ as Fiona called it.

And Mickey would’ve talked to him about how he felt when Ian left all those years ago. At least, that’s what he wanted to think, but Mickey honestly hated talking about his feelings and Fiona said that this situation wasn’t anyone’s fault, except Frank’s for being the shitty mouth breather he was.

After trying to help him outside the gay bar, he’d headed home knowing Ian would come back eventually. But Lip and Fiona had both been livid when he said he’d found him before he disappeared again. Mickey had thought she was going to kick him out, but instead she just called Ian until he picked up.

He’d waited up until Gallagher came home and he’d considered what he was going to say to him, but Mickey lost his nerve the moment he saw him. Ian headed straight upstairs a little after 2am and Mickey watched like some weirdo in the darkness of the living room, gnawing on his lip and replaying that moment outside the bar.

Then it was like he deflated.

Initially, he was planning on staying the fuck away from Ian and letting his siblings take care of him, but he was off on the second day of Ian being depressed and Fiona had demanded he watch over him. 

She looked close to tears or like she’d punch him when she asked. He didn’t really understand what was going on. Not really, until he saw him. 

He couldn’t stop himself from checking on him and he looked - well, he’d never seen someone look so... _fucking_ _sad_. 

The haunted look, even in his sleep drilled itself into his head, like the conversation in the alleyway. 

Ian Gallagher was full of life.

His red hair matched his vibrant personality.

He was dedicated and loyal; he was positive and had a big heart.

He was just... _Ian Gallagher_.

But to see him barely able to make it to the bathroom...Mickey had this urge to make it better.

He wanted to wrap his arms around him and tell him it would be okay. He envisioned protecting him from the world that had hurt him, but a small voice in the back of his head reminded him that _he_ was the cause of this.

His uselessness, his cowardliness, his fear had been the catalyst for Ian’s downward spiral.

He’d mentioned it to Fiona one night about how he felt guilty for what Ian was going through all but alluding to the fact something had transpired that night Ian had taken off. She gave him a sisterly smile and said, “it’s not you, it's fucking Frank’s fault. If Ian takes his pills, he’s okay. These things...it’s just the disease. He’ll get better and then we’ll take him to the clinic. Don’t feel guilty about this, it’ll eat you alive if you let it.”

He felt a little better after that, but that hopelessness and guilt lingered like a blood stain on a white t-shirt. 

He waited day-after-day, slowly becoming the sole caregiver as Fiona took care of the rest of the house, like she usually did. He wanted to make sure Ian was okay and in all honesty, he wasn’t sure if the Gallagher siblings were up to the task. If Mickey watched out for him, then he’d know 100% what was going on.

But it scared him.

Seeing him look so hopeless and helpless and fucking _desolate_.

Those empty green eyes looking at him with despair.

His usually pink lips looked ghostly and pale.

Not to mention their conversation was haunting him. He just wanted to talk to Ian, make sure that they were okay, and he needed answers.

So maybe he had jumped the gun by having a much too deep conversation with him while he could barely feed himself, but Mickey needed to know. He needed to understand. But he needed more, which is why he decided to leave the house for the first time since Ian got sick, besides going to work. He’d made sure Ian was sleeping when he left, knowing he’d only be gone an hour or two at most to go talk to one more person to find out what really happened all those years ago.

* * *

“Fuck, Mickey, what are you doing here?” 

Mickey stared at his brother who he hadn’t seen in several years. The last time he’d seen Iggy, he was still hobbling around from the beating their father gave him. He’d given him $500 and told him to go to Sandy’s until he could get around on his own. With a quick (manly) hug, Iggy had sent him into the streets of Chicago never to be seen or heard from again.

Until now.

Mickey needed his questions answered and the only person that could do it was Iggy. 

Ian had told him his side of the story and now Mickey just needed - he needed to make sure Ian was telling the truth. He and Ian had cleared the air. 

Now, he would confirm what he’d said and then he’d be back home - at the Gallagher house. He didn’t think he was lying, but he wanted to hear it from an outside source.

The tightness in his chest that he couldn’t shake - no matter how much he drank and smoked - and a nauseous feeling in his stomach seemed to flair up as he stood outside his old house and stared at his brother. 

For the last week or so, neither of those feelings had disappeared. The knot in his stomach had loosened up after he’d word vomited all over Gallagher in probably the worst timed situation on the planet. But now they were back as he prepared himself to revisit that night. He braced himself to enter his old house, to a time he’d rather forget forever.

He needed to know, though, he couldn’t think of anything else. He hadn’t meant to ask Ian about that night, not when he seemed to barely keep it together and now, he had to face his own fears and step back into his past. 

Much like he’d asked Ian to do.

Mandy had told him that Terry was back in prison for armed robbery or a hate crime, he couldn’t keep it straight, he just knew that Terry wasn’t going to be there. And while, he would risk running into one of his homophobic uncles or Collin, who had been okay until he found out Mickey was gay, (Mickey felt a little less angry thinking _that term_ , for reasons he wasn’t ready to consider.) he’d watched the house until he knew only Iggy was home. He felt like a stalker as he waited in the bushes until he saw Iggy walking up the sidewalk with a six pack and a carton of cigarettes.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of his brother who he hadn’t seen in almost 10 years, he wasn’t surprised that Iggy looked pretty much the same. Now, he had a scraggly beard, a few more scars, and his hair was a bit longer, but it was Iggy, the same curled lip and hard eyes all the Milkoviches had.

“Thought you were locked up,” Iggy said when Mickey nodded at him.

“Got out, been staying with Mandy,” Mickey said, hoping she hadn’t told him he moved into the Gallagher household.

Iggy nodded, “yeah, man, I was going to come visit, but…” he made a gesture with his full hands and Mickey tried to brush away the annoyance at his brother.

“You got a sec?” Mickey asked glancing around the neighborhood to make sure they were truly alone.

“Yeah, man, of course,” he led the way into the house and for one second Mickey hesitated before he entered it.

It had been years since he was in this house and he wasn’t the same teenager as he’d been when he was here last. But that didn’t mean the pain and the trauma from that night disappeared. 

The nauseous feeling in his stomach strengthened as he walked over the threshold. Closing his eyes for a moment, he mentally prepared himself to go further into the Milkovich House of Horrors. When he opened his eyes, he automatically felt panic rise in his chest, memories of a time long ago invaded his mind, but he swallowed it down with the reminder that he could leave whenever he wanted to. 

He had a home now that was better. 

He was safe now. 

He could leave right now and never look back and that would be okay. 

For a moment, he considered taking Ian’s word for it and keep the past in the past. He could ignore the questions he had and pretend he’d never stepped foot in this house, but he’d tried that already and if he wanted a future with Ian, then he’d have to learn the whole stor--

 _Wait, since when do I want a future with Ian?_ He asked himself startled by that thought. He wanted to be friends with the guy...but did he want him as a boyfriend? 

He began to gnaw at the side of his lip as he realized that the answer was _‘yes’_ and his heart rate sped up at the realization. 

_He wanted a future with him..._

He swallowed the clawing anxiety down and tried to concentrate on why he was here.

He wanted answers and he wasn’t some pussy bitch.

He was stronger.

He was smarter.

He was better.

Terry wasn’t going to show up.

And Ian was waiting for him at home - at the Gallagher house.

“Want a beer?” Iggy asked, handing him a can.

“Yeah, sure,” Mickey said, started to drink it faster than he normally would’ve. He felt 

Iggy’s eyes on him, but he ignored him until he felt like his emotions were in check.

“We can go outside, man, if that’s--”

“I’m fine,” Mickey said and sat tensely on the couch.

Iggy followed after him and leaned back, waiting for Mickey to start talking.

“So what--”

“Is anyone else here?” Mickey asked, glancing around.

Iggy shook his head, “No, just me, Jamie, and Collin live here now. Sometimes

Sandy if that dykey girlfriend breaks up with her, but for the most part, it’s just us.”

Mickey nodded and swallowed, “I came to talk to you about, uh, that night.”

Iggy squinted at him, “what night?”

“When dad sent me to the hospital, you know with Ian Gal--”

“Oh, right,” Iggy took a long drink and Mickey noticed how he avoided his eyes, “what about it?”

Mickey prepared himself mentally before diving into the deep end of the conversation. “Why didn’t you tell me that Ian came to visit? I mean, did he come to the hospital?”

Iggy stared at him for a long time and Mickey swore he could hear his heartbeat thudding in his chest.

Finally, Iggy nodded once and then started talking, “Yeah, he did. Tried to see you a bunch. Even before he had his cast off...cried once I think too. But...dude, seeing you like that. Your face--” he paused and shifted in his seat. “Pops did a fucking number on you, man. Thought you were dead. I called the cops when I heard the yelling and Ian’s voice. Knew shit was going to go down. He still doesn’t know who called the cops that night.” 

Mickey nodded slowly, taking in that information. So Ian had been telling the truth. He began to feel the tenseness subside a little as he realized that things were falling into place. Ian hadn’t just up and disappeared. He’d tried to fight for him, however, futile it seemed. But he had tried and that knowledge alone was more than anyone had ever done for him. 

“Did he try to come see me when I was home?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you say to him?”

Iggy sighed wearily and ran a hand through his scraggly beard and then his long hair. “Listen, man, I wasn’t trying to, like, do anything bad. I just...you’re my brother. I mean, I couldn’t just...sit there. Ian seemed nice and everything. He didn’t take it well from what I remember. It was a long time ago, but I know...I’ve never seen someone look so heartbroken…” Iggy trailed off and then cleared his throat. “Look, we came back early from that run. Terry found you guys and I know - I’ve known for awhile and I knew he would fucking kill you if he found out. I was just trying...I never could stand up to Terry, but seeing you that fucked up...So I called the cops and then you went to the hospital--”

“I know this.”

“Ian kept asking to see you and when I wouldn’t let him, he tried to go through me, didn’t want to hurt the kid since he was still recovering, but...he was pretty desperate. Telling him that you didn’t want to see him, that he was getting in the way, it seemed easier. Like, he’d realize you didn’t want to, you know, fuck him anymore or whatever. I figured he’d back off. But then when he started showing up around the house, like a fucking stalker by the way, I knew I had to make him go away for good. So I said he was the reason Terry beat the shit out of you. That it was his fault you almost died. Stopped coming after that. Felt kinda guilty, but...it wasn’t like he was in love with you or anything,” Iggy said heavily.

Mickey starred as his brother dumped all of that information on him. His mind was reeling even though he technically knew all of this from what Ian had said, but he was still having a difficult time trying to gather and process his thoughts. 

He was telling the truth. 

But that last sentence Iggy had said really struck him because his brother had only thought they were fuck buddies or whatever, he didn’t know that - _they were more than that_.

Everything seemed to slot into place as Iggy finished talking. It all made sense now; why Ian had disappeared, why he hadn’t heard from him, why Iggy had gotten annoyed when Mickey had asked what happened, and why Iggy had given him money and told him to leave. He had initially thought that it was because of Terry, but it was so much more than that.

Now that he understood, it didn’t make it better that Ian had left him, but it made sense. If Lip had done the same thing to him, what would he have done? 

Probably the same thing, but Mickey knew Lip wouldn’t let him get to Ian and Iggy was cut from the same cloth. 

He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as he realized he had it all wrong, Ian never abandoned him. He’d tried to fight for him and then he had to live with the guilt of thinking he was the reason Mickey was in the hospital for years. Meanwhile, Mickey had to live for years thinking the only guy he’d ever cared about, who he thought he’d _cared about deeply_ all those years ago had just fucking left him to rot.

They wouldn’t have had to deal with their inner turmoil about that night if Iggy hadn’t gotten in the way. It was his brother’s fault, but even knowing the full story and how everything had gone down, he couldn’t bring himself to hate his brother or Ian, for that matter.

He blamed Terry for fucking up a life he could’ve had with Ian, but he also blamed Terry for his self hatred, his internalized homophobia, and for thinking that prison was the only future that he could ever have.

He just felt downtrodden and helpless for his younger self and for Ian, who just wanted to comfort him while he recovered and instead was told he was to blame for what happened to them. 

Tightening his grip of the beer can in his hand, he needed to leave this house and go back to Ian, if only to make sure he was still where he left him. He felt the urge to see him and make sure the night that had warped their lives would stay in the past and they could focus on a future, one Mickey hoped they could have together. 

“Why are you asking me this anyway? It’s been years,” Iggy said when Mickey didn’t say anything, too lost in his thoughts to even know what to say.

Mickey contemplated telling him that he was hanging out with Ian again, that they were friends, that things were going to work out between them, and they’d figure this shit out no thanks to him. He wanted to tell his brother he could’ve had a great relationship with a great man if he hadn’t fucked it up, but Mickey knew something else would’ve gotten in the way back then. He probably would’ve pushed Ian away or Ian would’ve still gone to the army and fucked up his future. There were so many possibilities of what could’ve happened between them that it made Mickey’s head spin. But they were here now and he couldn’t change the past. Neither could Iggy. 

It felt like wasted energy getting angry at his brother when he was just trying to protect him, when a thought occurred to him.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything? That you knew I was...you know, gay?” Mickey tried not to spit the word out and felt a bubble of pride when he managed to actually say it. 

Iggy rolled his eyes and gave him a ‘are you serious?’ look. “Cause you’re my brother, fuck, I don’t care who you fuck or whatever, but I care if you’re dead. We just...we just happened to get a shitty hand with Terry...but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t stand up for each other, even when we don’t understand it.”

Mickey stared at Iggy not knowing what to say to that, so he drank the remainder of his beer and then set it down on the coffee table. He looked at his brother for a long minute and then stood up.

“I gotta go,” Mickey said quietly.

Iggy nodded and stood up with him. He walked him toward the door and then followed him outside as Mickey hesitated on the porch not knowing how he should finish this conversation. He knew he should feel angry at Iggy, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not when he was okay with who Mickey was and how he tried to protect him from Terry.

The wind caressed his face as he stood on the porch, looking at his brother and he let out a long sigh already glad to be out of that house.

“Come by, anytime. We can hang out like we used to,” Iggy said, giving him a tired smile.

Mickey nodded, already knowing he had no intention of coming back to this house ever, but when things became a bit more settled, maybe he could invite him over to the Gallagher’s. “Yeah, man, I’ll see you around,” he said and turned away from the house he’d grown up in, ready to leave it behind for good.

As he walked down the street, he realized that everything he thought he’d known for the last few years wasn’t true at all. 

For the first time in a long time, he felt his shoulders relax, the knot in his stomach loosened a little more, and he could breathe a little easier. 

* * *

_2010_

“Take a seat, I’ll grab the beer,” Mickey said nodding to the couch as Ian came into the house. “I made us some pizza rolls too,” he added feeling shy about revealing he’d made Ian anything edible. 

It just seemed too domestic and while he liked the guy - who was he kidding, he more than just _liked_ him - he’d never made anyone else outside of his family food. 

Ian gave him a bashful smile and set his backpack in Mickey’s room before settling on the couch.

“You’re sure your family is gone?” Ian called out as Mickey began to dish out pizza rolls and cut up frozen burritos to put on two plates.

He’d made a stop at the store earlier and had grabbed some frozen foods they could gnosh on during their weekend together.

Mickey had been thinking about this weekend for a while, since his dad had told his brothers they were coming with him down to Kentucky to pick up some guns and more meth. Mandy was out at her flavor of the week’s and he knew she wasn’t going to be coming back, so he’d started scheming to figure out what he and Ian could get up to while no one else was in the house.

Initially, he’d been hesitant to invite him over, but they barely got to spend any time together besides their hours at work or walking around the Southside. They’d gone to a few more parties since the one he’d dragged Ian to with Iggy, but after he had to hook up with that girl, he had stopped going with Iggy anywhere. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with his brother, but he didn’t want his brother trying to hook him up with girls and he didn’t like seeing the woebegone look on Ian’s face afterwards. 

Ian was easy. He was fun to be around and Mickey couldn’t ignore that little splash of eagerness that seemed to flow through his system when he was around. His redhead made Mickey feel free to be himself without any judgements. 

He couldn’t really beat that.

And the freedom that seemed to flow through him when Ian was around gave him confidence he never knew he had. Confidence to take what he wanted without feeling dirty or self-hatred for it.

So when the opportunity came up that he could spend an entire weekend with Ian, he wanted to make sure it was perfect. In addition to them spending time alone together, they would finally get the chance to fuck in a bed. Mickey was also excited to wake up beside Ian too, for a moment, he’d be able to pretend this was a life they shared together. They could eat together, watch tv together, and fuck wherever and whenever they wanted. So yeah, Mickey was excited to put it plainly, but he was also a little nervous. He felt like everything was riding on this weekend and this was the turning point of their relationship.

“Yeah, man, fucking Kentucky,” Mickey said making a face as he came back in with the two plates and two beers tucked under his arm. 

Ian stood up to take a plate and the beers from him and then deposited them on the dirty coffee table. Mickey smiled gratefully at him and then was surprised when Ian took the second plate and set it down next to the other one before kissing him hard on the mouth.

For a minute, Mickey was so surprised, he didn’t respond. He hadn’t expected Ian to just jump on him like that, but when his tongue swiped his bottom lip, all other thoughts except him went out the window.

He tugged Ian closer and raked his hands through those fiery red strands he loved. Pushing his own tongue into Ian’s mouth, he heard the taller boy moan out and drag his hands along Mickey’s back.

“Bedroom,” Mickey muttered, pulling away from him and turning around to go to his room, the beers and food forgotten.

He’d planned it out so strategically. He was going to serve them dinner and get Ian a little drunk while they watched an action movie and then he’d make his move. But Ian seemed to be as eager as he was and Mickey wasn’t complaining. Not when the taller boy was kissing up and down his neck as they walked awkwardly toward his bedroom, Ian’s unrelenting hands dipping into his pants and beginning to run his long fingers up and down his rapidly hardening dick.

Mickey let out a huff of laughter as Ian turned him around right outside of his room to kiss him again on the mouth. Pulling Ian’s shirt over his head, he threw it into a distant corner of his room as he was backed up toward the bed. 

“Wait,” Mickey said, glancing over at the bedroom door. He knew his dad and brothers were gone, but that didn’t mean he wanted to fuck with the door open. He moved away from Ian to close and lock the door before coming back over to him and pulling his jeans down. Ian followed his actions, peppering kisses along newly unclothed skin and soon the two of them were naked.

Mickey was surprised when Ian broke their kiss to pull back and look at him.

“What?” Mickey asked, feeling his cheeks redden at Ian’s intense gaze. 

“Nothing,” Ian whispered before he smirked at him and then leaned down for a gentle kiss, which seemed to change the atmosphere in the room.

Unlike their previous quick ministrations, his redhead seemed to want to take his time and Mickey followed his lead. He took a step closer, wanting to feel their skin pressed together and Ian’s hard length brushed against his own cock. He shuddered at the simple touch and he could feel Ian’s smile against his own lips as they continued to liplock. Pulling him closer so their chests were flushed against each other, their dicks rubbed against each other again, harder this time. That was all Mickey could take before he pushed the taller man on top of the bed and crawled over him until he was straddling his waist. He rubbed his bottom down against the tip of Ian’s dick and he watched his jaw clench and eyes drift close. 

“You got lube?” Ian rasped out.

Mickey grumbled as he had to part from Ian and roll closer to the edge of the bed where it met the wall and dig until he found a small unopened bottle of lube. He wrestled with it as Ian attempted to take it from him because he was doing it wrong, but Mickey got it open and shot a middle finger at a laughing redhead before he tossed it at him. 

Ian moved onto his knees and pushed Mickey onto his back before he placed some lube on his fingers.

“Wait,” Mickey started sitting up on his elbows while his knees fell open to give Ian an eyeful. Ian’s eyes drifted down to rest on Mickey’s hard cock before looking at him. Mickey rolled his eyes at the hunger in the redhead’s eyes before he went on. “I wanna ride you,” he said almost bashfully.

“Don’t you want to be prepped?” Ian asked, confused wiggling his fingers.

“Well, yeah, but after,” Mickey chose to leave out how he wanted to fuck face-to-face, feeling like that was showing too much vulnerability.

Ian smiled softly at him and then leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips before he began to pepper kisses down Mickey’s neck, chest and then finally got to his lower abs, right above his black curls. He surprised him with a gentle kiss to his dick before moving away, disappointing Mickey. He wouldn’t have minded a blow job, he thought right as Ian’s finger began to circle the opening of his ass. 

Mickey closed his eyes as he felt the pressure of Ian’s finger move further and further into him, opening him up little by little. As he moved his digit in and out, Mickey felt the tightness drain away and the pleasure began as he added a second finger and began to scissor them. 

The room began to fill with breathy moans and demands of ‘faster’ and ‘right there.’ When he felt the pressure begin to build, he reached down and began to run his hand along his cock, but Ian slapped his hand away and pulled his fingers from him causing Mickey to groan out in protest.

“The fuck?” he grumbled as Ian laughed.

“You’re so fucking bossy, Mick,” Ian said lining himself up to Mickey’s now prepped hole.

“Wait, get on your back,” Mickey instructed, feeling some of the lust disappear, so he could do what he’d been thinking about for weeks now. He’d been dreaming of riding Ian Gallagher and now that they had time and a bed, he was going to have his wish fulfilled.

“Are you--”

“Just go, Gallagher,” Mickey said, putting his hands on his shoulders before pushing him toward the bed.

Ian smiled widely and placed his hands on Mickey’s waist to pull him on top of him. Mickey smirked down at him and gripped Ian’s large cock in his hand pumping it a few times before he took the lube Ian had left on the bed and squirted some onto his hand. He rubbed the sticky liquid onto Ian’s cock and then lined him up before sinking down. 

They both let out a simultaneous moan as Ian slid into him. Once the initial burn subsided, Mickey began to move, sliding and grinding and riding, trying to elicit louder and louder moans from Ian. 

He’d never faced Ian while they fucked and as he looked down at his face, he made a mental note that they needed to do this more often. Ian was fucking gorgeous normally, but seeing how Mickey’s movements brought him such gratification made him feel so fucking powerful. He was the one making Ian lose control and the realization made him fall a little deeper in lo - _like_ with him. 

Mickey watched as Ian’s face twisted in pleasure and his eyes drifted closed. He gripped Mickey’s hips tight enough to leave bruises for the next few days, but he didn’t mind. He liked having marks from Ian, they reminded him what they had between them.

“That feel good, Gallagher?” Mickey asked, trying to maintain a steady rhythm. Ian always made him feel good and he just wanted to make sure that he felt just as satisfied. 

Ian let out a choked noise and Mickey smirked down at him, moving a little faster. Then Ian moved his hand from his waist to the back of his neck to pull him down to kiss him and Mickey stilled for a moment, surprised at the sudden move. Ian’s tongue pushed into his mouth and Mickey bit down lightly on his bottom lip before he began to ride him again, his dick leaking onto Ian’s belly from the added friction.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mickey groaned as they pulled away for air.

“You like that, Mick?” Ian asked thrusting his hips up to meet Mickey move-for-move.

He felt Ian’s hand move from his neck down to his hand, which had made a fist to keep himself steady on the mattress. He intertwined their hands and Mickey leaned down to kiss him again, the sight of seeing their palms pressed together and their fingers linked causing something deep and primal to happen inside of him.

He sat up a little straighter than he was before, their hands still linked and Ian’s green eyes boring into his own, the new position making it a little easier to move and the added intensity of Ian giving him more confidence to take what he wanted. 

He moved his bottom up a little more and then slid back down on top of Ian, finally finding that place inside of him that made his body ring out in delectation. He let out a deep moan as he continued to hit that one area inside of him and he closed his eyes as he felt his orgasm building little by little.

Feeling a pinch to his hip, he opened his eyes to find Ian smirking at him. 

“Look at me,” Ian demanded and Mickey nodded because he was so caught in what they were doing, he couldn’t deny Ian this one thing.

As their eyes met again, Ian moved his hand down to begin palming Mickey’s leaking cock. The added sensation causing him to cry out as Ian’s body brought him more and more pleasure and much too quickly, he found himself coming hard onto Ian’s chest causing the redhead to flip them over and begin to drill into him to find his own release.

It seemed to be only a few thrusts until Ian was following him over the edge, filling Mickey up. He moved to roll off of him, but he tightened his legs around him and kissed him on the shoulder and then hard on the mouth before he loosened his grasp and Ian moved next to him.

“Fuck,” Ian breathed as they both struggled to catch their breath.

Mickey looked over at him and smiled, his eyes catching their entwined hands. His gaze moved from their interlocked hands to Ian who was staring at him with a look that could only be described as adoration, and dare Mickey think, _love?_

“We should start fucking in beds more often,” Ian muttered.

“Fuck, yeah,” Mickey huffed out with a laugh. 

He wished that was the case, but knowing all they could do was savor these moments together and hope for a brighter future.

* * *

They played rock, paper, scissors to figure out which one of them would get up to go get the discarded food and drinks. Ian lost, so Mickey kicked him out of bed to get the food and drinks. He crawled back into bed with him, both balancing their food on their knees so they wouldn’t spill. 

After they ate and drank, they took a shower where Ian gave him a blowjob and he returned the favor when they got back into bed. 

“I wish we could stay like this,” Ian muttered as they began to drift off to sleep, their limbs interlaced.

“Yeah…” Mickey murmured, watching as Ian’s eyes began to close. Mickey watched as a smile settled on Ian’s lips and then he rolled over and curled his body around Mickey’s as he fell asleep. Mickey couldn’t remember a time when he ever felt so content, he wanted to savor it a bit longer.

“Ian?” Mickey muttered, his eyes already closed and Ian’s heavy limbs wrapped around him, keeping him warm and safe.

Ian didn’t respond, which meant he was probably fast asleep.

He moved their entangled hands up toward his mouth and kissed Ian’s large hand over his own, a whisper of ‘I love you’ caressing his skin. He wished he felt confident enough to say it out loud, however quietly, but he wasn’t ready to say it yet, but with kisses and touches, he hoped that Ian got the message. He could barely acknowledge he was in love with him, hiding behind words like ‘care deeply for’ and ‘like a lot,’ but he knew he did. He hoped eventually it would get easier to say. 

He’d never said it before, but he knew it was true. He’d known it for a while. It was a knowledge that seemed to be easier and easier to admit to himself every day and with the confidence Ian gave him, he hoped he could tell him soon. 

Snuggling closer to his lanky ginger, with thoughts of happiness and love for the first time in his life, he fell asleep excited for what the next day would bring.

* * *

A loud bang woke him up, but he didn’t open his eyes until Ian’s heavy limbs were replaced by cold air and shouting filled the room. 

“Fucking faggot! Get the fuck out of here! I’m going to fucking kill your faggoty ass! Stand up you fucking pussy! Be a real man!”

He froze as he recognized that voice and quickly moved out of bed to grab the closest pair of boxers. 

Ian was on the floor, a sheet clutched around his waist with Terry on top of him screaming about fags and pussies and how he was going to fucking kill him. He raised his hand up to punch him again and Mickey saw red. 

“Get the fuck off of him!” Mickey screamed standing on top of his bed and jumping on Terry’s back. 

Terry flung him off and Mickey’s back hit the wall, before he went tumbling to the floor, knocking his head hard. As he shook his head to clear it, he heard a loud crack and Ian screaming out. 

The edges of his vision blurred. His only focus was making sure Terry was in as much pain as possible after the sound Ian had just made. Ian’s screaming filled the room and Terry yelled out, “you, no good faggot, you fucking deserve to die.” 

He lunged at Terry, his fists raised and hitting every inch of his father he could. He got in a few good punches before Terry grabbed his arm. 

“Fuck you,” Mickey screamed raising his other arm to shove his palm to hit Terry’s nose.

He knew that if he hit him just right, then Terry’s nose would smash into his brain and he’d--

But Mickey didn’t get that far when Terry head butted him and the dizziness came back as he fell to the ground. He got in a nice right hook that caused Terry’s nose to bust open, but he was on the ground with his father looming over him, a flurry of fists connecting with his face.

Punch after punch connected with his face and his vision began to turn fuzzier and fuzzier as the throbbing in his head increased. 

Sometime between the punches and the overwhelming pain, he passed out. 

* * *

_2019_

“What did you do today?” Ian asked, slurping a bowl of soup and looking the best he had in the last two weeks, which basically meant he was sitting up in bed. Mickey thought he needed a shower, but he’d smiled for the first time when he came in with some dinner and he felt like he could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Mickey dragged in a chair to sit in as they ate together and for the first time in days, they both seemed relaxed. He made a mental note when Ian went to take a shower, he’d do the sheets and then realized what he thought and chastised himself for being such a little bitch just because Ian didn’t look so depressed today.

Mickey shrugged carelessly as he thought back to seeing his brother and visiting the Milkovich house. He debated whether or not he wanted to tell Ian he’d gone looking for answers, but something made him want to tell him everything, even all of the shit about feeling nervous and overwhelmed and fucking _scared_ in that house.

A little voice in the back of his head voiced that Ian didn’t give a shit if he felt scared because he didn’t care, but another _louder_ voice pointed out that he did. He cared a lot. There was evidence Mickey could point to now. From the Bon Jovi concert to Ian’s lingering looks and the fact that Ian had _not abandoned him,_ Mickey knew Ian cared. And for the first time in a long time, he quieted that deceitful little voice and focused on how far he’d come.

He’d taken the long way home, needing the extra time to clear his head. He had a lot to think about after what Iggy had told him.

The big thing he took away from seeing his brother was that Ian hadn’t ditched him. He’d tried to see him. He’d been telling the truth. More importantly, he had more people on his side than he’d ever thought. He had people he could trust, who cared about him, who fucking wanted him around. 

That realization made something shift within him.

It helped solidify the fact Ian wasn’t like everyone else.

He wasn’t who he thought he was for the last almost decade either. Ian was still that guy who’d helped celebrate his birthday and who helped him with English. He was the same guy who listened to him and gave him confidence to be himself. 

He hadn’t left him. He’d tried and that’s all Mickey really needed to know; that he fucking cared enough to try.

And Mickey hoped maybe someday that could shift into something more, when Mickey was ready and Ian was better, they could pick up where they had left off, without his father’s shadow looming over them.

Facing the fears of re-entering that house and of learning the full story, probably didn’t hurt in helping him come to this conclusion that he was ready to leave the past behind and look toward a better, brighter future. He hadn’t realized how haunted he felt by what happened all those years ago until he’d left that house for a final time.

“Saw Iggy,” Mickey said quietly, deciding to bite the bullet.

Ian’s eyes flashed up to his and widened comically, “seriously?”

Mickey nodded.

“Why?”

Mickey smiled slightly and bit the corner of his lip as he tried to figure out how to vocalize to Ian why he needed to get the answers he did without making him sound like some pussy.

“I guess...I needed to. Closure or whatever the fuck they call it,” he said begrudgingly.

Ian gave him a long look before returning to his soup. The sounds of slurping filled the room and Mickey was glad Ian wasn’t going to push him.

Once Ian was finished, he put the plates on the bedside table and Mickey squeezed the hand closest to him, locking eyes with the redhead and trying to convey everything that was going on in his head with that simple action.

Ian returned the smile and squeezed his hand back.

Just like how Mickey wanted to convey his feelings, he could see what Ian wanted to say in his eyes. The gratefulness, the happiness, and the appreciation gleamed back at him and he couldn’t ever remember feeling more light and free.

When Mickey woke up the next morning to get ready for work, he went into the kitchen to make breakfast and bring it upstairs to Ian, he saw the redhead making toast and pouring himself a glance of OJ. He still needed to take a shower, but Mickey couldn’t stop himself from reaching over and placing a gentle, quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, shocking both of them.

Ian suddenly smiled back bashfully and Mickey rested his hand on the back of his neck, neither of them wanting to break the bubble they’d created around themselves, until they had to when Fiona came bounding down the stairs with Liam trailing behind her and Emily on her hip. 

Mickey shuffled back from Ian, to give Fiona space to hug him and as he watched the two siblings talk to one another, he knew they were on the right path. 

Things were going to get better, he told himself smiling when Ian cast him a sidelong look as Fiona busied herself with making breakfast for the rest of the Gallaghers.


	11. Savor The Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian starts to get better. Mickey opens himself up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has been reading this story! I'm so glad you guys like it! And thank you for the comments and kudoes, you guys are so lovely and I really appreciate it. 
> 
> This next chapter has violence and smut, so if you don't like those, here is your forewarning. I hope you enjoy! And everyone is staying safe out there!

_ 2019 _

“How are you feeling now, Ian?” the psychiatrist asked in a calm voice.

He was sitting in a chair in her small, bleak office at the free clinic. She was a small Asian woman who looked to be in her late 50s, with grey streaking her black hair. Her demeanor was nice and soothing, but Ian was already feeling tired from making the trek with Mickey and his patience was thin.

That morning Mickey had woken him up and told him it was time to go see the psychiatrist to get more meds from the clinic. He’d wanted to fight him on it, but Mickey looked so unsure of himself, that Ian went willingly. He didn’t want to rock the boat with him, especially when he’d been so attentive these last few weeks. And maybe a little bit of Ian was still high on Mickey kissing him - even briefly. 

When the brunette told him where they were going, Ian went, knowing whatever Mickey asked him to do, he’d be game for. How could he not when all Mickey had to do was raise his expressive eyebrows at him and give him a ‘bitch, you’re going whether you like it or not’ look.

“Fine,” he replied and waited for her to ask some more of the cliche questions. While he waited for her to go on, he wondered if Mickey was actually still waiting outside for him. He didn’t doubt him waiting, but this whole process was taking forever. They had to check in, wait, talk to the psychiatrist and then visit the general practitioner. Ian wouldn’t blame him if he left, wanting to spend his Thursday somewhere better than at the free clinic with his psycho ass.

“Can you tell me what happened to your pills?” she asked, looking through his chart.

“My...dad stole them,” he said uncomfortably.

Her head shot up to look at him with raised eyebrows and he wished he had something better to focus on than a poster that said ‘Be the change you wish to see.’

“I see...is your home safe to be in?” she asked hesitantly.

He sighed heavily and told her the abbreviated version of Frank, which really was the only version a doctor needed to know. She seemed to understand; asked about his support system, how he was adjusting to life outside of the psych ward, and whether he was doing his exercises when he started to feel...unlike himself.

“Besides the slip up with the pills, everything is fine,” he heard himself say and glanced at the clock.

He was ready to stop in and see the general practitioner, get his new prescriptions and  go home. His eyelids felt heavy and he just wanted to lie down. 

It didn’t help that the guilt of Mickey waiting for him twisted in his stomach as he looked at the clock again.

“It says in your file that you’ve been a model patient, apart from the resistance of the diagnosis originally, but...Ian, you don’t seem happy. Do you have anything...positive going on in your life? Do you feel content?” she asked gently and he couldn’t stop himself from snorting.

“Happy? What’s there to be happy about? I just got out of a psych ward and my pills were fucked up, so I’ve barely been able to get out of bed for two weeks. I’m not happy,” Ian said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

The doctor frowned, “I mean before, were you happy? With your meds and everything?”

Ian shrugged and focused on the poster. “I’m not thinking of slitting my wrists if that’s what you mean.”

“It’s not...Ian, I’d encourage you to find something that brings you joy. Not a person, but something you’re doing. It says you were an activist before going to the Cook County Institution. Perhaps, volunteering could--”

“Listen, I’m taking my pills, once I get them, and my family is riding me to take care of myself and I am, what else do you want from me?” Ian asked in irritation.

She sighed heavily and gave him a sad smile, “are you still angry about the diagnosis?”

He was quiet for a moment and then nodded reluctantly, “I mean, I know I shouldn’t be, it’s been two years.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still be angry.”

It was quiet for a long moment and then he slowly said, “Yeah, I’m angry, but also I’m...it’s frustrating to have to be the one my siblings are worried about. It wasn’t supposed to be me, it was supposed to be…” Ian trailed off as he thought of Lip who had slid down the path of alcoholism or Debbie who had gotten pregnant and then aborted the baby or hell, even Fiona who had gone on a bender after all the shit with Liam’s accidental overdose had happened. He was supposed to be the one that fell into the shadows, the one who was good, focused, and determined. Instead, he ended up being the most fucked up one of all. 

“Ian, your family just cares about you, that’s all. They want you to take your meds because it’s better for you. It seems like your friend in the hallways just wants that too,” the psychiatrist said quietly.

Ian didn’t say anything for awhile as she watched him and he thought about what she said. “I’m tired of them nagging me,” he said finally, “I take my pills, that should be enough.”

“You’re not supposed to take your pills for them, you’re supposed to do it for you,” she reasoned.

“I told them at the psych ward that they make me feel groggy, they make me feel like...like I’m numb, like life isn’t worth living. I don’t want to feel like that,” he said passionately.

The psychiatrist wrote down something and then looked at the clock regretfully.

“You need to go get a new prescription. I think that we should change your mood stabilizers, but I’m going to suggest you stay on the antipsychotic. Let’s see how that goes and we can go from there. You’re going to see the doctor next, right?” The psychiatrist asked.

Ian nodded and stood up slowly, taking the piece of paper she handed to him.

“I’ll see you in a month, Ian, make an appointment on the way out and we’ll see how you’re feeling then.”

He walked toward the door, hesitated, and then said, “thanks,” before leaving. He walked into the waiting area to find Mickey flipping through a magazine. He smirked when he saw that it was a Home & Garden and he made a mental note to make a joke about it later.

“I just have to see the regular doctor next, then we can go,” Ian said wondering if he should tell Mickey to leave. It was a lot of waiting around, even if Mickey wasn’t complaining.

“Do what you gotta do, Gallagher,” Mickey said nonchalantly as if he had all the time in the world to sit at the free clinic with him.

Ian went over to the glass window to tell them he was ready to see the doctor and he needed to make an appointment to come back and see the psychiatrist. When he sat back next to Mickey, who was reading his magazine, he gave him a tired smile.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

Mickey, without looking up, said, “Just sitting here, waiting for your ginger ass. No need to thank me.”

But Ian saw the hint of a smile on his lips and he felt himself grin for the first time in two weeks.

* * *

“How did the doctors go?” Fiona asked as she came into the house, Emily on her hip and an assortment of grocery bags in her hands.

He had been sitting at the table. Liam was sitting and doing his homework while Carl was playing on his phone. He got up to help her and added a quick, “It was fine.” 

“Anything I should know?” she asked pointedly.

“No,” Ian said, putting away the groceries. 

“Ian--”

“Really, I’m going to see the psychiatrist next month. Mickey picked up the prescriptions for me. I took my dosage for today and I’ll take it before bed, everything is fine, Fiona,” Ian said, turning to look at her. 

He reminded himself, she was only worried about him and he thought back to what the psychiatrist had said about his family wanting him to get better. He knew that was the case, but it was hard to remember when he was so stuck in his own head.

She had that wide-eyed mother hen look and he gave her a small smile to try to make her feel better. He wanted to tell her he was going to try to be - and get - better, that he was going to try to take his pills not for other people, but for himself. But the words weren’t coming up and he didn’t really want to have a heart-to-heart over cans of vegetables and boxes of cereal.

“Really, everything is okay,” he said again when all she did was stare at him. He hoped that his earnest tone conveyed everything he wanted to say and something in her expression seemed to relax.

While he was in the psych ward, Fiona had been his biggest champion. Lip had been great too and so had Carl and it was their encouragement that helped him become a bit more accepting of his diagnosis, but it was always a topic of ill-ease, especially when he heard Debbie making a comment one time about how he was totally Monica. 

He knew his siblings didn’t think it was the end-all that he thought it was, but they weren’t the ones living with it. They didn’t understand how he’d thrown away a lifelong dream because he was manic. They didn’t understand what it was like to have to be stuck in a place that was meant to help you, but all it did was make him feel even crazier.

His stay at the psych ward was supposed to be about accepting what had happened and learning how to live with it. While he’d been punished too, the program was about putting him on the right path and it did to an extent. He’d gone through all of the motions that he was supposed to, but he never really believed in them. He believed that what he did was wrong and eventually that he was sick, but he didn’t think the therapy or whatever was helping. He didn’t think the pills were working. How could they when he felt so shitty all the time?

But now that he was out and he’d freaked out both his family and Mickey, he knew he needed to reassess the path he was on. 

He may not believe that these things worked, but he also knew that without his pills, he would get sick and after seeing Mickey’s worried face too many times and dealing with Fiona’s mother hening, he needed to make the choice of what he wanted his future to look like. 

He knew he wanted Mickey in it and a good relationship with his family, so he decided he’d make a conscious effort to take his pills for himself, not just to please his loved ones. 

The problem was he still felt shitty, well, he knew he would now that he’d taken his first dosage. Tomorrow, he’d be back in bed until his meds evened him out and while the psychiatrist had told him he should feel less numb, he wouldn’t believe it until he experienced it.

“Mickey picked up your prescriptions, huh?” she asked her mother hen look turning to a teasing one.

“You and Mickey are ‘friends’ again?” Carl asked, finally glancing up from his phone and making air quotes as he said ‘friends.’

Ian tore his eyes away from his sister and looked at Carl and Liam who were smirking at him with identical looks of mirth.

“He’s been really...helpful,” Ian said, turned to look away from them, so they wouldn’t be able to tell whether or not he was lying.

The thing was Mickey had been really helpful during this time. Since he’d finally gotten out of bed yesterday, Mickey had only left his side this afternoon to head to work. He’d taken care of him while he laid in bed by helping him when he was too tired to make it to the bathroom or bring him food. 

Mickey had been there for him during a time when he could’ve easily said fuck you and taken off. But Ian also felt guilty that he had to be there for him in the first place. It was like the situation that morning at the free clinic. Mickey didn’t have to sit with him and wait the three hours it took to see the doctors. He didn’t have to walk with him there and dedicate his morning to reading two Home & Garden magazine. Mickey didn’t have to go out and pick up the prescriptions for him because he was too tired to get them. 

But he did and Ian felt an odd mixture of warmth that he was willing to do that for him and hesitation that Mickey could grow resentful because of this disease in his head.

Ian wasn’t sure what happened while he was out of it, but something seemed to change inside of the older man. He seemed...like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps it was the surprise kiss in the kitchen yesterday or maybe it was their talk. It could’ve been Mickey spending time with his brother, but whatever it was, he seemed like he was ready to face the world. 

His depressive episodes were always kind of a blur, but he did know that Mickey had been there in a way that no one else had and it seemed to shift something within him.

“Helpful, huh? It’s almost impossible to get the father of my child to help with dinner and yet Mickey offered to go pick up your meds? Sounds like a keeper,” Fiona said, a smirk settling on her face.

Ian shifted uncomfortably, very aware that his siblings were all looking at him with amusement. He was half expecting an I-told-you so, but instead, they all seemed gleeful just to tease him.

“He’s been great, through all of this,” he muttered, looking down at his phone.

“Where’s he now?” Liam asked, “surprised he’s not making you dinner or washing your sheets.”

Ian scowled, “he’s at work.”

“You know he barely left the house while you were in bed,” Liam said, cutting Carl off before he could open his mouth and say something snarky.

Ian ducked his head, feeling a blush grace his features. Before he could answer though, the back door swung open and Lip appeared.

“Hey,” Lip said, sliding into an empty seat at the table.

“What are you doing here?” Ian asked, surprised to see him.

He glanced over at Fiona who was making baby sounds at Emily before turning back to Ian.

“Heard you went to the clinic today,” Lip said hesitantly.

Ian looked at Fiona who was giving him a sheepish look and then back at Carl and Liam who were now both focused on either their homework or cell phones, studiously avoiding his gaze.

“Yeah, Mickey took me,” Ian said begrudgingly.

Lip nodded, “I’m glad.”

Ian was silent as he watched his brother fidget and then he cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“Listen, I want to apologize about thinking you weren’t taking your meds. Frank--”

“Mickey told me he took them,” Ian interrupted.

“I’m sorry,” Lip said glancing at Fiona who came over and laid a hand on Ian’s shoulder.

“We shouldn’t have thought the worst. It’s just with Mon--”

“I’m not Monica,” Ian said tensely.

“We know that, but it’s just...we worry,” Fiona said quickly.

“I’m sorry for getting so angry,” Ian added after a few minutes. “Sometimes...I know I need to take my meds and I know I need to take them for me, but it can be hard, I guess, when you guys are...nagging me. I know it’s cause you’re worried, but it’s a lot of pressure.”

“We just want you to be safe and okay,” Fiona said squeezing his shoulder.

He looked up and her and smiled; his eyes drifted to his three brothers who were all watching him with varying looks of concern.

“I’m okay, at least I will be,” Ian said, trying to ignore the uncomfortable balloon of emotion that was being larger and larger in his chest.

“Good, cause then I think Mickey would go ballistic,” Carl joked breaking the tense silence.

Ian rolled his eyes at them as they all began to laugh, but he couldn’t help but smile. He felt Fiona kiss him on the top of his head and Lip changed the subject to asking about Debbie’s latest pictures of her travels in Europe and things seemed to feel a little more normal.

But Ian couldn’t shake the comments his family had been making about Mickey. He began to wonder if they needed to have another conversation about where they stood with one another.

When Mickey came home an hour later and sat down to dinner with them, he still looked relaxed and at ease. 

Ian didn’t want to cause any more friction between them, so he decided to push the desire to have a conversation away and instead enjoy their time together. 

How could he not when Mickey’s knee kept knocking his under the table and he kept sneaking looks at him?

* * *

_ 2010 _

“Mickey!” Ian screamed as Terry repeatedly raised his fist and brought it down onto the brunette’s face. The sickening din of fist hitting skin and the crack of bone snapping filled the room causing his stomach to turn.

He couldn’t tell if Mickey was still conscious or not, the amount of blood covering his face made him unrecognizable. He tried to crawl to him, the excruciating pain of his broken leg made his vision black out as he went to move closer to his  _ boyfriend.  _ He cried out as the throbbing of his leg radiated through his body when he attempted to maneuver toward him.

He couldn’t stop screaming his name, needing some semblance of proof he was still alive. If only he’d move, just to prove he was still here with him, but he laid there, bloody and broken and bruised as Ian reached for him, his finger skimming the side of his palm. The sounds of Terry’s swears echoing through the bedroom, but Ian’s sole focus was getting to Mickey, even with the homphobe’s boot hovering over their nearly-joined hands.

It was then that the police came and ripped Terry off of Mickey’s beaten and blood body, saving both of their hands from being crushed by his boot. As they dragged him away, Ian finally made it over to him, his leg laying uselessly behind him. He tried to find his pulse point in his wrist as the EMTs went to lift him onto the stretcher, but he couldn’t find a heartbeat.

“Stop! Wait! I need to know if he’s okay!” Ian cried out as he struggled away from the EMTs who were trying to help him up. He was solely focused on getting back to Mickey who was surrounded by additional EMTs as they unpacked their kits.

“Is he alive?” Ian yelled, needing an answer to his question. He just wanted someone’s attention, anyone to answer him.

“Sir, you need to get on this gurney, we need to take you to the hospital. You need to get off your leg, sir, you--”

“Tell me he’s okay! Please, can you just--” Ian begged trying to get around them to get to Mickey.

He could see his bloody forehead between the EMTs and he reached out again needing to touch him. He couldn’t think of anything else. He needed to be okay; he was going to be okay.

“Sir, please sit still, we’ll need to sedate you if you don’t cooperate, sir--” the EMT was saying as she pushed Ian down.

“Please, just check him okay?” Ian said, not wanting to take his eyes from Mickey’s body.

“They’re doing everything they can to make sure he’s okay. Right now, we need to focus on you,” the EMT said, strapping Ian to the stretcher and beginning to push him out of the house.

It was once they were out of the room did he begin to struggle against his binds to get back to Mickey and then he heard yelling from the EMTs to sedate him. As they lifted him into the ambulance, he felt like he was floating away and eventually drifted off.

* * *

When he was 12, he broke his collarbone. Fiona had freaked out when she saw the bone poking out of his skin, he’d been trying to skateboard with Lip, and had taken him to the hospital. He had to stay overnight, which was okay since he got a free meal out of it, but it was scary to wake up and not know where he was.

The same could be said for his 16 year old self. 

When he woke up, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to move. His body was screaming out in pain from bruises and cuts that decorated the skin. Most of the hurt he was feeling was in his heart though as he thought about what had happened to Mickey.

The first thing he did as he looked around the white walls and the curtain separating his room from his neighbor was begin to look for a way to call the nurse in. He needed to know where Mickey was as the images of his broken and bloody face came streaming back to him.

“Can I help you?” a sweet faced woman said coming into the room.

“Where’s - I need to find the other patient I was brought in with,” he said trying to clear his mind from the fogginess of the painkillers they gave him.

She frowned, “the other patient...what’s his name? I’ll try and see if I can find something, but if he’s not family--”

“He is - he is family,” Ian said quickly.

She raised an eyebrow at him and then sighed, “don’t you want to know how you’re doing?”

He shrugged carelessly, his only desire was to find out what had happened to Mickey. Was he dead? Had Terry killed him? Was he going to be okay? 

The idea made bile rise in his throat and suddenly he was vomiting up what little he had in his stomach. The only silver lining was that he threw up on the floor, instead of his bed. He felt the tears streaming down his face as the nurse made calming sounds to him and called someone to bring a mop.

“Listen, your sister is on her way, she was your emergency contact. I’ll find out what I can about your...family member,” she said and began to check his vitals.

Ian stared down at the pile of puke on the shiny, tile floor and tried to remain calm as he waited to find out what happened to Mickey.

* * *

He was picking at the breakfast he was brought when Fiona came hurrying into the room. She took one look at him and burst into tears, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, but he winced at the contact. 

“What the fuck happened? They wouldn’t tell me anything,” Fiona cried running a hand through his hair and looking the most worried that he’d ever seen her.

He shrugged out of her grasp; her grip on him too hard, it was making the bruises on his skin scream in protest.

“I was, uh, at Mickey’s,” he said quietly, his busted lip making him talk funny.

“Mickey Milkovich’s? Why were you over there?” Fiona asked, confused.

Ian debated for a moment whether he should tell her the truth or not and while he didn’t think his sister was a homophobe, he wasn’t sure he wanted to share what happened to Mickey when his own father had just tried to kill him for being gay.

“We’re...friends, from work, you know,” Ian said tentatively, leaning back gingerly into the pillows and looked down at his torn up hands and the cast around his leg.

“Did Mickey do this?” Fiona asked, her voice hardening.

“No, no, Terry, he, uh, he just came home in a rage and Mickey and I were hanging out...I tried to help, but, well, I wasn’t much - I couldn’t - I mean--” Ian felt his throat close up as he recalled what happened to them. He turned away from his sister as the tears began to flow down his cheeks, the guilt, the sadness, and the helplessness that seemed to build up came pouring out. Fiona seemed to understand and pulled him in for a hug. He buried his face as carefully as he could into her shoulder and began to cry, unable to articulate the tornado of feelings he was dealing with. 

* * *

The hospital was dark as Ian limped through the corridors. He’d passed security, who was asleep, at the entryway of the ICU. The nurse from earlier had tentatively told him that his friend was in there, but wouldn’t say much else at request of his family. Once Fiona had fallen asleep in the chair beside his bed, he struggled to get out of bed and go looking for Mickey.

He knew he was alive, but he needed to see him, to be sure. 

The hospital at night was eerie as he made his way through it, stopping a few times to readjust the crutches he’d been given by the hospital so he could go to the bathroom.

Once he got to the ICU, he began to look in every room he passed to see if Mickey was  in there. He wasn’t sure what room he was in, so he figured he’d check all of them until he found him.

It was room 304 that he finally found Mickey, laying in the bed with cuts and bruises decorating his face. From his vantage point at the window of Mickey’s room, he could see a large scar on his left temple, deep purple bruises covering his cheeks, a cut on his elbow, and one above his lip. He moved to open the door, when he heard a voice break the stillness.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Ian looked up and saw the previously sleeping security guard headed toward him.

“He’s my - he’s my friend,” Ian said, his hand still on the door knob.

“Visiting hours are from 8am-8pm, visit him then,” the security guard said, coming to a stop in front of him.

Ian frowned, “but I’m right--”

“Come back tomorrow. Here, I’ll get a nurse to come help you,” the guard said radioing someone.

Ian looked back helplessly at Mickey’s sleeping form.

“Come on,” the guard said, taking his arm and leading him back toward the entryway of the ICU.

Ian looked back at the room Mickey was in, his heart sinking as he was led further and further from the door. He tried to tell himself that he’d be back tomorrow, so he could see him, but the lump of guilt that settled in his throat couldn’t be soothed as easily.

* * *

_ 2019 _

“What are you reading?”

Ian glanced up from his book and smiled softly at Mickey who was sitting beside him on the bed. 

After dinner, everyone settled in to watch a movie, quickly it became evident how tired the younger kids were and soon they fell asleep. After Fiona put Emily and Liam to bed, Carl went out, which left the two couples and Mickey and Ian. Mandy had come over while they were eating once she was off work.

Ian had taken a moment while they ate to savor the interactions during dinner. It just felt...right. He couldn’t explain it, but the energy from his family and Mickey and even Mandy and Evan seemed to give him a boost of... _ content or something _ . He wasn’t sure how to explain it, but he felt like he was meant to be here, for the first time in a long time.

It helped that Mickey was here, but it was also nice to have cleared the air with his siblings. Even though he knew he was going to have another tough conversation with Mickey in their future. He just wanted to enjoy the calmness now.

However, when they sat down to the movie once it was just the two couples and them, Ian could tell Mickey felt uncomfortable as the other two cuddled around them in the dark. Mickey had made an excuse that he was tired and Ian had followed after him only a few minutes later.

Now, here they were sitting in bed as Ian read and Mickey sat beside him on his phone.

Ian flipped the book closed and showed him the title. 

Mickey raised his eyebrows as he read, “‘Hidden Valley Road,’ the fuck is that?”

Smirking, Ian said, “a book about schizophrenia.”

“Schizo - what? Whatever, man, do you think I could sleep up here, I’m tired as fuck and they’re still watching that dumbass movie,” Mickey muttered avoiding Ian’s eyes.

“Of course, you’re able to sleep in here, you live here too,” Ian said.

“I fucking know, I just...I’ve been sleeping on the couch and I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or whatever.”

“I won’t feel uncomfortable, Mick, I’m glad you’re here,” Ian blurted out.

Mickey looked down at the blanket on the bed as he said, “Yeah, well, I’m glad you’re not...you know, all sad and shit anymore.”

Ian laughed quietly and moved his leg to nudge Mickey’s knee. “Couldn’t have done it without your help.”

Mickey gave him a ‘yeah right’ look and Ian could feel his stomach doing somersaults.

“I was - I mean - it was nothing.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Ian stated and he wished he could add in that it meant a lot to him, but he didn’t want to push his luck and scare Mickey off by being too  _ whatever. _

But Mickey surprised him and for the second time in two days, he cupped the back of Ian’s head and pulled him closer, finding his lips immediately. Ian could feel Mickey’s slight hesitation, despite the fact he was the one who initiated it, so he pushed through the surprise and responded the way he felt Mickey deserved. Lifting his own hand to cradle the back of Mickey’s head, he dug his fingers through the soft strands of hair as he pulled him closer. His tongue found its way into his mouth and grinned when he heard the moan that followed. 

Their lips melded together as the kiss turned more passionate. Ian couldn’t suppress the shiver Mickey dragging his hand down his neck created. 

Pulling away regretfully, Ian rested his forehead against Mickey’s as he gasped for  air.

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey muttered tangling his fingers in Ian’s hair. He wondered if the brunette needed to be held steady after those kisses, like he did.

“Forgot how good you tasted,” Ian responded, his eyes closing as he allowed himself to bask in the moment before he moved back in for another kiss.

He lost himself in the sensations of Mickey’s fingers raking through his hair and his other hand caressed the skin on his neck. He felt himself begin to harden as Mickey’s kisses turned more fevered. He moved away from Mickey’s mouth and began to drop kisses as he moved more and more south, making sure to stop at the area right under his ear where he knew he liked to be teased. 

Kissing Mickey again was overwhelming. He forgot how good he tasted, how much he loved touching his skin, and the little hitches of his breath that occurred when a finger or lips grazed across his plains of flesh. Now it was all coming back to him as he focused on his neck, careful not to leave a hickey, but giving it the love Ian felt the area deserved. He pulled away from his neck to look at him full in the face, smirking when he saw Mickey’s half lidded eyes and his lips parted, letting out little huffy breaths.

“What?” Mickey demanded when Ian’s one hand loosened in his hair and the other one moved from where it rested on his waist.

“Nothing,” Ian said, smirking and then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the light scar at the left temple of Mickey’s head.

When he pulled back, Mickey was bright red and squirming beneath his gaze.

“Stop doing that gay shit,” he snipped trying to look annoyed, but Ian could see the shyness that snuck through, like rays of the sun through half opened blinds.

“Hm…” Ian muttered moving back in to kiss Mickey’s upper lip, a scar resting there too, “just glad you’re here.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, but moved back to kiss him and Ian tightened his hold on his hair and waist. His fingers began to inch up the cut-off t-shirt Mickey wore and he ran his fingers over the exposed skin.

Suddenly, he found himself on his back and Mickey was hovering over him, straddling his waist. 

“You got any lube?” Mickey asked, looking at his chest. 

“Uh, yeah, somewhere,” Ian said, his brain a mix of hazy lust and surprise that Mickey wanted to fuck, especially when two weeks ago he was uncomfortable with kissing. But then again, fucking had always come easily to them, when words did not. 

“You wanna - you wanna, fuck?” Ian asked when Mickey gave him an annoyed look.

“Where’s the lube?” he asked pointedly, ignoring his question. 

Ian tapped his leg to signal that he needed to get off of him and then he went over to the drawers, very aware of the tent in his pants. When he turned around, with the lube in hand, Mickey was staring down at him and then moved to yank his shirt and jeans off. 

Ian smirked as he crawled back onto the bed, now naked, and reached for Mickey’s clothes to get rid of them. 

“You’re lucky, you know,” Ian said casually as he studied Mickey, taking in the small differences since the last time they had been together. He was more defined than he had been the last time they had fucked, from years of spending time in prison. Any traces of boyhood had long disappeared leaving only a man. He noticed he had more scars, especially one on his side where he had no doubt been stabbed.

The brunette pushed him down onto the bed and Ian tried to get the upper hand, wrestling until Mickey had wrapped his arms around his head as if to put him in a headlock.

Ian laughed and tried to flip them over, but it was no use, he couldn’t gain the upper hand. Probably because he had barely left his bed in two weeks and he was winded, he thought.

Mickey laughed above him and tossed the lube at him, “hurry up, Gallagher, or else I’ll find someone else to give it to me.”

Ian moved onto his knees and resisted slapping his ass as he put lube on his fingers. He placed his palm on Mickey’s waist to signal to him to bend over, so he could get behind him. With his ass in the air, Ian moved his fingers down and began to push them in slowly, to help Mickey adjust to the intrusion.

“What am I lucky about?” Mickey asked after letting out a hiss as Ian pushed his finger from his first knuckle to the second one.

“What? Oh - just that, fuck, I’m usually - Christ, Mick, you’re tight - what - right, I’m usually, it’s hard for me to get hard when I’m on my meds. That hasn’t kicked in yet,” Ian breathed out as he added a second finger and Mickey let out a low moan.

He doubted that Mickey heard him as he began to move his fingers, loosening him up, so he could take his girth.

The thing was he knew tomorrow he’d be tired again, to the point where he would sleep all day while his pills leveled out. He had the same moment during dinner earlier, he wanted to take advantage of this time they had together before he got weird again and he slept all the time. It didn’t help that after today his dick would probably be an inconsistent performer too and he wouldn’t get the opportunity to show Mickey how grateful he was for him. For now though, he wanted to be in the moment and savor it for what it was.

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey groaned out. Ian watched as his fingers moved in and out of him easily and he knew that it was time. 

He squeezed more lube onto his hand and pumped himself a few times before he lined himself up with his hole. He slowly pushed into him, Mickey’s breathing coming out heavily. 

He paused for a moment as he tensed up. 

Mickey pushed his hips back and said, “Keep fucking going, Gallagher, Jesus.”

Ian laughed quietly and gripped Mickey’s waist tighter, his fingers digging into his flesh. “Fuck, feel amazing, Mick,” Ian gritted out as Mickey overwhelmed him once he was full inside him. 

He waited a few minutes as Mickey adjusted before he started moving. It took him a few tries to find the right rhythm, but eventually the only sound filling the room were the smacks of flesh and breathy moans as they got lost in the sensation of each other.

Mickey’s hips pushed back and met him thrust for thrust. Ian knew he was hitting that area inside Mickey that made his toes curl when he began to say ‘fuck, right there,’ over and over again and he smirked to himself as he sped up a little more, making sure he hit him right where he wanted him. 

“Fuck yes,” Mickey gasped out as Ian reached around and gave his dick a few yanks. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer as he felt the pleasure escalate within him, it was much too fast, but he hadn’t fucked anyone in such a long time and while he knew he should feel embarrassed, he also could tell his partner was close. It seemed Mickey was on the same wavelength as he came with just a few tugs all over Ian’s fist. He followed after him, slumping over onto Mickey’s slick back as he released himself. He lay there for a few minutes until he began moving underneath him. 

“Get the fuck off,” Mickey muttered elbowing him softly in the stomach.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Ian leaned down and kissed the center of his back, on his spine and then moved away. Getting off the bed in search of a towel, he found one that smelled semi-clean on the floor and then poured some water from a water bottle on it before cleaning himself off. He threw the towel at Mickey who followed suit. Then he looked for the pack of cigarettes that was in the room somewhere.

“What you looking for?” Mickey breathed out reaching over to the bedside table and producing the aforementioned cigarettes.

Ian made a gesture at them and laughed softly. He crawled back on the bed and lay beside Mickey, stealing a cigarette. Side-by-side in bed, they both stared at the ceiling as they smoked their cigarettes in silence, neither moving until they had gotten down to the butt.

“Tomorrow, if I sleep all day again, don’t be - don’t be alarmed,” Ian muttered not wanting to look at him and see his piteous look. But then he reminded himself that this was Mickey and he didn’t do pity, not really. He did concerned and uncomfortable, which is what he’d seen while he was taking care of him, but not pity.

Mickey shifted beside him, “yeah, you’re supposed to with your new meds,”

Ian smiled slightly and turned to look at him, taking in his profile. “Yeah,” he confirmed and started to shift closer, when Mickey stopped him by turning to look at him full on.

“I don’t do that cuddle shit,” he muttered giving Ian a meaningful look.

Giving him a smile that was probably too dopey, Ian leaned over and kissed him on his temple again, before rolling over. He knew at one point while sleeping, he was going to try to cuddle Mickey and he’d probably get a snappy reply in response, but he didn’t care, not really.

“Also, I want to sleep facing the door,” Mickey said, shaking Ian’s shoulder before he could drift off. 

Ian chuckled softly, but switched spots with Mickey. 

“Night, Mick,” Ian said, laying facing the door, with Mickey’s back the first thing he saw. He didn’t bother asking why Mickey wanted to face the doorway nor did he question his desire to not cuddle or his sudden comfort with them fucking as if nothing had changed between them in nine years. While he knew they probably needed to talk, as long as Mickey was here, he didn’t care what happened next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add an end note cause I didn't want to spoil anything in the beginning. I wasn't completely happy with this chapter because I wasn't sure if I should ease them into a sexual relationship or not. HOWEVER, Ian and Mickey have always communicated via sex over talking and I thought it would be OOC to have them slowly fall into a relationship a la rom-com instead of fuck and then have a conversation. Obviously, the area they've never had a problem with is sex and that's how they convey their feelings, so that's my argument with myself for how this chapter went.
> 
> Also, I've never been to the free clinic for psychiatry, but I did some research (aka I googled it) and that's what they usually do, so if it's wrong, I apologize. I hope you guys liked that chapter and leave a comment if you'd like!


	12. Labels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey gets anxious after sleeping with Ian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm a day late on my updating, I know. But a few things to let you guys now before moving forward. As you may have noticed, I've been updating on different days. I think for now I'll be updating this story on Thurs and for those of you who are reading my other story that one will be on Sun. I'm taking a higher education course to change careers and it's a lot of additional work, so it's cutting into my writing time. Once this story is done, I'm going down to one story since (fingers crossed) I may be getting a job again. Anywho, we'll see how it goes writing and working and schooling. I'll keep you guys posted.
> 
> Also, thank you so much to those of you who are reading and staying with the story! You're wonderful readers and thank you to those of you who have commented or kudoed! I really am appreciative of the feedback. It helps me write better lol. I hope you guys enjoy this new chapter! And let me know what you think! Stay safe and healthy! 
> 
> Side note: I'm writing something for GW2020, but I'm having issues picking my fav idea if anyone wants to bounce ideas off each other!

_ 2019 _

_ Crash! _

Jerked awake from the land of sleep by a loud thud somewhere outside the safety of the bedroom (he had yet to call it  _ his and Ian’s  _ bedroom, so  _ the  _ bedroom was much easier to handle), Mickey stared blurry eyed at the door as if waiting for someone to crash through it. Instead, he heard a few more dull thuds and then Fiona yelled something he couldn’t discern, so he laid back against the pillow, the movement causing his arm to brush against Ian’s chest.

Running a tired hand across his face, he glanced at the redhead who lay behind him. For a moment, he allowed himself to stare at Ian’s peaceful face. How the sun trickled in through the window and sliced across his features, highlighting the vibrancy of his hair and the paleness of his skin. Mickey couldn’t help but think about how beautiful he was and how  _ Ian _ had chosen to spend his time with  _ him _ . It was fucking weird. 

He was so focused, it took him a few minutes to realize that Ian’s large hand was resting on his upper arm. Attempting to shake it off, all Ian did was cuddle a little closer to him as if he didn’t want Mickey to leave. He was glad the other man was asleep as he blushed at the sensation of his morning wood pressing against his ass cheek.

He smiled slightly, unable to help himself. Whether it was from the memories of the night before or waking up in such a comfortable position, Mickey wasn’t interested in looking too far into it. He knew if he thought about it too long, then he’d start to get anxious about what all of it  _ meant.  _

He didn’t want to think about what it meant, not yet. 

Not when Ian was still dealing with his own shit and Mickey couldn’t forget all of the hatred he felt for himself. He’d made progress, but that didn’t mean his issues disappeared. 

He wanted this one thing to be untouched by all the bullshit, and yet, he knew this grace period wouldn’t last very long. They needed to have a conversation about what they were doing and Mickey frankly knew he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of having a  _ boyfriend  _ even if it was Ian.

He sat up and looked down at Ian’s sleeping form before placing a gentle hand on the side of his face. Studying his features, he couldn’t seem to look away. He was so serene as he slept. All the sadness and blankness that had swallowed him whole these last few weeks had disappeared. He lingered a moment longer before moving since he had to go take a leak. 

Grabbing a discarded pair of boxers and a tank top, he began to head toward the door, but stopped and looked over toward the bedside table where they ( _ Ian, not _ Mickey, he wasn’t his keeper _ ) _ were now keeping his meds. He had bought a new pill box yesterday since everything had been taken by Frank and he divided everything out according to the prescription. He wondered if he should move the pill box closer to the water, unsure when Ian would get out of bed, and decided to scoot them within eyesight so they could be seen immediately.

_ I’m not his keeper, I’m just being cautious _ , Mickey thought trying to rationalize his behavior, much like he did last night while in the drug store buying the fucking pill box.

He shuffled toward the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. Splashing some cold water on his face, he looked up at the mirror and stared at himself for a moment. He took in the old scar above his lip that was no more than a sliver of paleness and the one on the side of his head. 

He ran a finger across the one on his upper lip and then sighed heavily. 

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was thinking getting caught up in Ian Gallagher again, but he wasn’t exactly against it. He didn’t think there’d ever be a time when he was against getting tangled with the redhead. There was just something about him that  _ drew  _ Mickey to him. He was like fucking water to Mickey’s parched throat. Even during the years they hadn’t been together, Mickey thought about him. 

He missed him. 

He wondered what he was doing, if he was with someone else, how his life ended up…

He never thought they’d end up here, but if Mickey was going to dive headfirst into being who he was, then the first thing he’d do was grab ahold of Ian and not let go. Because without Ian, Mickey wasn’t sure if he’d be brave enough to enter this life of...newness. 

He’d always seen himself as a hardass, shit talking, South Side thug and nowhere in that label was there room to be a fag. 

So how did he marry  _ what _ he knew he was with  _ who _ he’d always been? 

How’d he get comfortable as himself when he had this idea of who a gay man was supposed to be? 

He wanted Ian to help him figure it out, but he also knew it was his own journey. Sort’ve like getting Ian to understand that he needed to take his pills without forcing them down his throat. 

They were both figuring their shit out and while Mickey knew Ian could help him, he also knew they were headed down a slippery slope if they were mixing sex, feelings, and trying to get their lives back on track. 

He knew they should probably not be fucking when Ian was sick albeit he was getting better. 

And Mickey knew this new discovery of feeling comfortable in his skin was as thin as tissue paper, with him lashing out at someone calling him a fag or even looking at him funny because they thought he was gay. 

It could all fall around them if they reached the tipping point and that scared him. Just like the thought of giving into Ian again after he’d disappeared on him years ago.

However, he also knew he wasn’t intending to walk away. Being friends with Ian was great, he’d known that for years, since they were kids, but he also forgot how _ fucking fantastic _ it was to just be with him physically. He’d never felt as good as he had last night and that wasn’t something he could just toss away.

If every time they were together was as good as it had been last night, Mickey was certain he was just going to continue sliding down this slope of being with Ian despite all the other shit. Because the other shit was worth dealing with if he got the opportunity to spend time with Ian, physically and otherwise.

Turning away from the mirror, he left the bathroom as Liam came barreling in muttering about being late.

Mickey shook his head and moved toward downstairs, trying to ignore the gurgling of hunger in his stomach. When he came into the kitchen, he wasn’t surprised to see Fiona standing there with a cup of coffee. But he was surprised to see Lip sitting there mumbling to her. When he came in, they both stopped talking and turned to him with mirror expressions of unease.

“Ian up yet?” Lip asked.

Mickey shook his head and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. Without asking, Fiona poured him a cup and offered him a small smile.

“I think he’ll be okay though,” Mickey said after taking a sip. “He started taking the new meds and they’re upstairs so Frank can’t - can’t fucking do whatever he wants with them.”

Lip nodded and looked at Fiona with a look Mickey couldn’t decipher. Fiona sighed and  looked at Mickey with hesitancy.

“Mickey, there are, uh, a few things we wanted to talk to you about,” Fiona said leaning against the counter in the kitchen.

Mickey raised his eyebrows and automatically felt his defenses begin to rise. He moved to sit at the small table near the washer in an effort to put as many feet as he could manage between them and him. His heart rate began to pick up as he thought about what they could say to him. 

Had Fiona heard them last night? 

Did she not think he was good enough for Ian? 

Did she want him to leave? 

He had nowhere else to go. 

Was she going to give him some bullshit big sister lecture about how Ian didn’t need a relationship right now? (Not that they were in a relationship by any means. They were just...friends, who fucked or whatever. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, he told himself vehemently.)

“What?” Mickey barked when they both stared at him.

Fiona shared another look with Lip.

“Ian’s sick, you know,” Lip began.

“Yeah, I fucking know. Who do you think’s been watching him?” Mickey snipped rolling  his eyes.

“And we’re grateful, but there are some things you should know,” Fiona said softly.

Mickey frowned, “Like what? Just fucking spit it out, don’t fucking got all day.”

Sighing Fiona ran a hand through her hair and plowed on. “Ian can fluctuate between  highs and lows, and you’ve seen the lows, but there could be highs too. I know that his meds will make him sleep most of the next few days, but we want you to know that you should look for highs too,” Fiona said in a well practiced speech.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at them and made a gesture to go on.

“Ian’s highs will look normal for a bit, but then it could get...weird, I guess is the best way to describe it,” Lip said quietly.

“He could get really hyper or start talking really fast. He may be restless or stop sleeping. He could act irrationally or be irritable for no reason. He may be...he might be hyper sexual too. It’s - it looks okay for a little bit, but it can turn - it can turn really quickly and it may take you some time to realize what’s going on, but if he starts acting strangely--”

“Why the fuck are you telling me this?” Mickey snapped, cutting Fiona off.

She frowned, “well, I just figured since you guys are together--”

“The fuck you mean together?”

“Fucking, she means fucking,” Lip cut in.

Mickey felt his jaw tighten at their implication and he wasn’t sure if he should start yelling at them to mind their own fucking business and fuck off or completely deny it. A small part of him thought that maybe he should just admit to it, they’d find out eventually anyway. But a larger part, one that had to deal with homophobes for a majority of his life wanted to tell them they were wrong, there was nothing going on between him and Ian. Nothing they needed to know about. They were just friends.

“We’re not together. We’re just friends,” Mickey said tightly.

Fiona’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline at that and Lip smirked at him. Mickey wanted to punch him in the face.

“Friends who fuck though, right?” Lip said smugly and Mickey glared at him.

“Again, why are you telling me this?” Mickey asked, ignoring Lip. It was too early to get into a fight. He’d barely even sipped his coffee and he had other shit to worry about, like making sure Ian ate breakfast and took his pills before he had to get to work.

“Whatever you are to each other, you’re around him a lot. He needs - someone needs to make sure he’s not going to have an episode - high or low,” Fiona said reasonably.

Mickey stood up and walked toward the fridge needing to do something with his hands. He got out the butter and grabbed the bread before sliding in two pieces into the toaster.

“Why can’t you do it?” Mickey asked, his back to them.

It was silent for a few minutes and Mickey turned around to face the two of them who were doing that annoying communication with each other without speaking out loud thing. 

He huffed and said, “fucking spit it out.”

“We just figured you’d be around for awhile and we wanted to warn you that this could be a recurring thing,” Fiona said, eventually tearing her eyes from Lip.

“You guys just seem...close,” she added carefully when Mickey didn’t immediately respond.

“Close, huh? So you’re pawning your sick brother off onto me?” he snapped.

“No, we’re just warning you that bipolar is something that has to always be managed. You have to watch him,” Lip said meaningfully.

“I don’t  _ have _ to do anything,” Mickey muttered as the toaster popped up. He slid two more slices of bread into the toaster and was surprised when he looked up and Fiona was holding out a plate to him. He nodded at her and slid the hot pieces of toast onto the plate and began to butter them.

“We’re just saying that if you care about Ian, then you’ll watch out for the signs his meds aren’t working,” Fiona said.

Mickey nodded as he buttered the toast and put them down on the plate. “I’m not his fucking keeper,” he said staring at the toaster and willing it to pop up.

He wasn’t sure how he got caught up in this conversation with them, but he knew he didn’t want to be in it. He felt uncomfortable with the two of them thinking he and Ian were... _ together _ or whatever they wanted to call it. He wasn’t sure if it was due to years of having to fight off implications of his sexuality or because he wasn’t yet ready to face whatever it was he and Ian were doing. His siblings though seemed pretty keen on rushing it along and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was an extra set of eyes on Ian or because they wanted to warn him away before shit got too real.

“Look, Mickey, if you give a fuck about Ian, just make sure that you know what to look for if he gets sick again. You may not want to admit that you and Ian have some weird shit going on between you, but I don’t want to see my brother get hurt because of carelessness,” Lip snapped and Mickey couldn’t help but hear more of the threat than he probably intended.

_ Don’t fucking hurt my brother or I’ll come after you.  _

The toaster popped up and Mickey took the bread out and quickly buttered it. He moved to go back upstairs to bring Ian his breakfast and eat his toast while he got ready for work, but he stopped and looked back at Fiona and Lip who both looked anxiously at him.

“I’ll watch him, but I think you don’t give him enough credit. He’s stronger than you think he is,” Mickey muttered quietly.

He saw Fiona’s furrowed brow and Lip began to open his mouth, but he wasn’t interested in whatever else they had to say. He wanted to get back to Ian and make sure he woke up enough to take his pills and eat some toast before Mickey had to get to work.

* * *

When he got back upstairs, Ian was still sleeping, so Mickey began to get ready for work. He was in the middle of packing his backpack with his change of clothes - he wasn’t bold enough to walk through the South Side in a fucking pink polo - when he heard shuffling from the bed. He glanced up to see Ian watching him with a tired smile on his face.

“You gotta go to work?” Ian asked quietly.

Mickey nodded and went back to finishing packing his bag; his focus on the ground rather than Ian. 

He wasn’t really sure how to feel about everything. His family had basically just insinuated that they were together and he was now supposed to watch over Ian like some sort of nurse instead of a - a  _ boyfriend.  _ But even the idea of being Ian’s boyfriend was nerve wracking. 

He liked having sex with Ian, he knew that. 

But he wasn’t ready to put a label on it. 

He may not want to sleep with anyone else, but he wasn’t ready to call Ian his  _ boyfriend _ . It wasn’t so much him being a commitaphobe, it was more that the word alone made a chill run through him.

Years ago when they had been together or whatever the first time, Mickey would’ve loved to hear Ian call him his boyfriend or for them to put a label on it. 

But he wasn’t a teenager anymore. 

And more importantly, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to give himself fully to Ian. 

Just having sex, being friends, he could deal with, but once he gave him that relationship aspect too, Ian, well, whose to say that he wouldn’t leave again or grow tired of Mickey or find out that he’s too stupid or not good enough to keep him entertained? 

What if Ian came out of this weird depressive episode and decided he wanted someone -someone  _ better _ ? Someone who had a better job and made more money and didn’t have a prison record. 

Mickey had never been in a real relationship before and he wasn’t sure if he’d even be very good at it. It was just easier to fuck and be friends without - without overlapping the two. And maybe he was being an idiot because he already knew he had less than friends-only feelings for Ian, but while he knew now that he hadn’t just up and disappeared on him when he needed him most, he did know that it could happen.

To be honest, he didn’t really want to think about what all of this meant anymore. He knew when he woke up that they’d probably have some discussion about it, but that was before his siblings zeroed in on him and Mickey’s own fears and doubts weaseled their way into his heart. 

He liked being around Ian, they had something between them, and while he was growing more comfortable with himself, he wasn’t ready to go to a Gay Pride parade or anything. So of course because he wasn’t interested in labeling their whatever it was, Ian had to bring it up.

Even when Mickey could feel the anxiety of everything pressing against him.

Even when the idea of dating Ian wasn’t bad necessarily, it was just that...was he even ready to be someone’s boyfriend? Ian probably had lots of practice and Mickey was just barely coming to terms with what it mean to be  _ gay.  _

Couldn’t they just be Mickey and Ian? Couldn’t they just like each other and fuck and that was it? Why did shit have to be so fucking complicated with feelings?

The bottom line was that he liked Ian and the rest of it...well, he was going to have to figure out. But not right now, not when he had to go to work and he was trying to process everything himself.

“So, uh, was that like a booty call or--” Ian began.

Mickey let out a frustrated sound and turned to look at him.

“You take your pills?” he asked pointedly looking at the plate of toast, glass of water, and the pill box on the nightstand.

It was Ian’s turn to let out a frustrated sound. “You gonna turn into Nurse Mickey on me?”

“Ian, come on,” Mickey said, glaring at him.

Ian sighed heavily and reached over to grab the pill box and the water. Mickey watched as he swallowed the pills and then drank some water. He grabbed the toast and took a bite of it before Mickey turned away and grabbed his wallet and cell phone.

“It’s - I mean, we’re good, right?” Ian asked as Mickey double checked he had everything.

“Yeah, man, we’re good,” Mickey said without looking at him.

“Really? Cause you can barely look at me.” Ian stated a hard tone in his voice.

Mickey finally looked back at him and raised his eyebrows, his tongue licking his bottom lip nervously.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked.

Ian stared at him, his green eyes boring into Mickey’s. He seemed to deflate a little and slowly sat up in bed, the sheet falling around his waist.

“Did you enjoy last--”

“Fuck, are we going to talk about our feelings and shit? I gotta go to work I don’t have time for that gay shit,” Mickey snarled not wanting to dive into labels or what it meant that they fucked. 

Ian was amazing.

What if Ian didn’t think Mickey was as amazing?

He didn’t think he could take being rejected by Ian again, he’d already gone almost a decade thinking he had just used him and left him to rot. Who’s to say that there wasn’t a possibility of that happening again?

He knew logically that Ian didn’t disappear after they had been together because of something he’d done, but that didn’t mean that emotionally he was ready to step into a relationship with the man who had broken his heart so many years before.

“Wait, Mick, I just - I mean, are we...together?” Ian asked so quietly that Mickey hoped that he heard wrong.

When he looked up to see Ian’s shy look on his face, he knew that he hadn’t heard wrong. He really wanted to put a label on it  _ right now _ .

And Mickey felt sick as all of his anxiety accumulated.

“Stop acting like a girl,” Mickey said instead and he turned around to leave the bedroom. His chest felt tight and a lump of what could only be considered guilt settled in his stomach. He tried to ignore it. 

It was easier if he just went to work and told off middle school kids for stealing. If yelling at school kids and telling off mall goers didn’t help to stomp down the guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach all day long, then he knew with dread he’d have to face the music and talk to Ian.

He didn’t want shit to spiral.

But he really hated feelings.

And the look on Ian’s face, that shyness that turned to heartbreak, wasn’t something he was proud of creating in the redhead’s heart.

* * *

_ 2010 _

“Where am I?” Mickey mumbled as he slowly opened his eyes. Well, one eye since the other one seemed to be most of the way swollen shut. He moved to touch it, but his arm screamed in pain when he tried to move. 

“Mount Sinai Hospital,” a voice chirped and Mickey slowly turned his head to look at the tiny dark skinned nurse who smiled at him.

“How the fuck did I get here?” he mumbled taking stock of his body. He felt pain radiating throughout it. It was almost impossible to discern where it was all coming from. He just felt like one big bruise.

The last thing he remembered was Terry coming into the room and Ian getting -  _ fuck _ !  _ Where was Ian? _

“Where’s Ian?” Mickey asked moving to sit up, but his vision blacked out as the wave of pain hit him full force at the maneuver.

“Woaw, hold up, don’t move,” the nurse said, hurrying to get him to stay still. “Who is Ian?” she asked when she was sure he wasn’t going to move again.

“Red hair, alien-looking motherfucker,” he gritted out and leaned back against the pillows as he tried to will the pain away. He already could tell he was going to have a long way to go healing wise and a medical bill a mile long.

“Hm...I’m not sure honestly, but your brother has been visiting. You can ask him. If there’s nothing else you need Mr. Milko--”

“Wait, can you - can you tell me what happened?” he asked, swallowing thickly. He just wanted to know what happened to himself, Ian, how he ended up in the hospital…

She gave him a sad look, “your father beat you, but he’s in prison now. He won’t hurt you again.”

He scowled as she went to leave the room. He wanted to tell her that she wasn’t right. Terry was going to hurt him again. He always got out of prison. And he always came back to that house. He sat back against the pillows and replayed the sequence of events in his head, the ones he remembered anyway.

He and Ian had been laying in bed. They’d fucked and - and they’d fallen asleep and it was great. 

He smiled sadly as he thought about how warm and safe and fucking protected he’d felt with him. He tried to savor that feeling, but the warmth of the memory turned cold as he recalled how Ian had been torn away from him and replaced by Terry’s fists. He remembered trying to fight him off and hearing Ian’s scream…

Suddenly, the door to his room opened and Iggy came in clutching some McDonalds. He smiled when he saw Mickey sitting up in bed awake and dropped the bag of take out on the small table beside him.

“Yo, man, you’re alive, fuck,” he said staring at his brother in awe. “Brought you some food,” he added.

Mickey considered adding that if he was dead how did his brother know to grab McDonalds but instead, he began to get out the fries and burger he’d brought him. 

“How are you, man? Your face looks like a fucking bruise or some shit,” Iggy said and Mickey sighed heavily.

“What happened? Where’s Ian?”

Something passed over Iggy’s face at the question and Mickey felt dread settle in his stomach. He wondered if Terry had killed him. If that was the case, Mickey was going to get sent to prison just so he could kill Terry. Maybe Iggy didn’t want to tell him what happened to the red head. Maybe--

“He’s, uh, he’s fine, Mick, but I wouldn’t expect him to see him anytime soon.” 

Mickey stared at his brother, not completely understanding what he had just said.

“What the fuck you mean? Is he hurt? Did pops do something to him?” Mickey blurted out, his burger sitting forgotten in his hand.

Iggy shrugged and stood up from his position in the hospital chair to walk around the room. 

“He’s fine. Better than you are. He got out a few days ago. Broken leg,” Iggy said staring out the window.

Mickey frowned, “yeah? And? Where’s he now?”

If he was out, then why hadn’t he come visited he wondered. He’d assumed that Ian would be visiting everyday, not Iggy. Where was Ian?

“Shit if I know, listen why do you care anyway? If he wanted to be here, then he would and he’s not, so just forget about it,” Iggy said, turning around to look at him.

Mickey frown turned into a scowl as he stared at his brother who was giving him a hard look back.

“He never even came to see me?” Mickey asked. He didn’t believe that. He’d seen Ian’s eyes while they - while they  _ made love _ (Fuck, Mickey hated that word, that shit was gay, but it was also the truth). 

Regardless, he’d seen the intensity, the passion,  _ the fucking love _ and yet, Ian hadn’t fucking come visited him? That couldn’t be right, Iggy must be wrong. There must be a reason.

Iggy shrugged, “not that I saw and I’ve been here for the last week since you got in here. Fuck, man, didn’t think you’d ever wake up. Mandy’s been here too, but she had to go back to school or whatever. Fucking nerd.”

Mickey continued to stare at his brother, the words he was speaking didn’t seem to penetrate his mind, instead falling to the floor before they could make their way to his ears and be processed by his brain.

Why hadn’t Ian come to see him?

Had he just fucking disappeared on him?

“The fuck you mean he hasn’t been here?” Mickey asked again.

Iggy rolled his eyes and walked over to grab a handful of fries from the bag. “Just what I said. He hasn’t visited. Just forget about it, Mick, he’s obviously not a good friend if he can’t even handle a beatdown by pops.”

“But--”

“He’s an asshole anyway. Never liked him. Come on, eat your burger, man, it’s getting cold,” Iggy said shoving the fries into his mouth.

Mickey stared down at the burger in his hand, but it felt too heavy and the thought of putting it into his mouth made his stomach turn. He set the burger down on the wrapper and wiped his hands off. The turning in his stomach didn’t subside, instead, he was pretty sure he was going to throw up from the combination of the smell of fast food and the realization that Ian had just fucking left him.

No word.

No fucking letter.

Not even a phone call.

Did Ian even know he was awake? Or fucking alive after that beatdown by Terry? Had he thought Mickey was dead and just...took off? Didn’t give a shit at all?

Maybe he’d come see him when his leg healed up, but Iggy had said they were in the same hospital. Why hadn’t he even visited if he was just down the hall?

“Why didn’t he come to see me?” Mickey asked mostly to himself.

Iggy looked up from where he was grabbing another handful of fries and then shrugged.

“Fuck if I know, maybe you guys weren’t that close after all.”

Those words seem to swirl around Mickey’s head even after Iggy left. 

He laid awake that night staring at the hospital ceiling wondering why Ian had just abandoned him. 

How could Ian just abandon him? 

They had - they had been best friends,  _ more _ than friends and yet just said ‘fuck you, bye’ when they were found out by Terry? 

Maybe Ian thought that Terry was going to be at the hospital waiting for him? 

Maybe he wanted to protect Mickey by staying away? 

But those made no sense when everyone seemed to know that Terry was back in prison. Even his fucking nurse.

Why would Ian leave him alone after they - after they had  _ banged like that?  _ (He couldn’t bring himself to say make love again, his stomach already felt ill.) __

He eventually fell into a restless sleep (tears may have been involved, but that was neither here nor there) as he tried to make sense of why Ian would abandon him when he needed him the most, but no reasoning came to mind. 

Ian had left him because he could, like everyone did in the end, Mickey realized and as the days stretched into weeks and then months and years, he thought about that more than he ever really wanted to acknowledge. 

How could he not when the one person he liked (probably loved) disappeared on him without a word?

* * *

_ 2019 _

Ian was awake when Mickey got home from work that night. He was still laying in bed, but when Mickey came upstairs to change out of his work clothes, he saw Ian was staring unseeingly at the wall.

“Hey sleepy face, you want to go downstairs? Get some dinner?” he asked, starting to pull his shirt over his head and change into something more comfortable.

Ian slowly looked over at him, one arm tucked under his head, “why are you being fucking weird?”

Mickey swallowed thickly at the question. He wasn’t sure how to answer. He’d spent the day feeling guilty about how he’d pushed away Ian’s question, especially when he was feeling still so shitty. He wanted to be honest with Ian, but it was so fucking hard to talk about his feelings. 

He wished he could tell him that he was scared. Scared that Ian would leave, that Mickey wasn’t who he wanted, that their past would mar their future, that Mickey wouldn’t be a good boyfriend, that...that...that… There were so many things to be afraid of and Mickey wanted to reveal them all.

But the one thing he was sure of, that he knew he’d always be sure of was that he  _ liked  _ Ian, would always like him. Probably could love him once he figured out what exactly that meant… (Maybe he already did, who knows.)

Shit though, feelings were hard, he thought to himself as he tried to sift through the anxiety in his mind to say something that wouldn’t hurt Ian more than he’d already hurt him.

If Mickey wasn’t so fucked about everything, he’d find it ironic that they just seemed to be on this endless loop of hurting each other. 

“How about we go outside and eat some dinner? We can talk about it out there?” Mickey said quietly as Ian stared at him unwaveringly. 

He figured it was a good compromise. Ian didn’t want to get out of bed. Mickey didn’t want to discuss his feelings. 

Ian sighed and slowly moved out of the bed. He had pulled on a pair of boxers and a tank top since Mickey had left and he tried to consider that a good thing since it meant he left the room. He tried not to let his eyes linger on Ian’s body and instead he focused on changing out of his clothes and into something more comfortable.

Then they headed downstairs and Ian fell into a chair as Mickey made them some boxed mac and cheese. They were the only two home for once and Mickey couldn’t have been more ecstatic. 

As they waited for the water to boil, Mickey began to tell Ian about his day as just a way to fill the silence that seemed to settle in the kitchen.

“Does the bipolar shit freak you out?” Ian asked, interrupting his tirade about his boss. “Do you regret fucking? Is that it?” he added when Mickey tried to come up with what to say to him.

“No, I mean, we probably shouldn’t have fucked with everything you’re dealing with, but…” Mickey swallowed thickly and turned to put the noodles in the boiling water. “And no to the bipolar shit, I don’t care about that, man.”

“Then why are you being weird?” Ian snapped.

Mickey prepared himself to look at Ian and felt his heart sink at the desperation in his eyes.

“Just, it’s not you, it’s - it’s me. What happens if you, like, don’t want me around or whatever? What happens if this is just cause we’re both, you know, getting over our own shit? What if this is just a phase for you? What if I’m - I’m bad at relationships and shit?” Mickey blurted out.

Silence filled the kitchen as Ian looked at him in surprise and since the flood gates were now open, Mickey couldn’t help himself from continuing on.

“And what about labels are so important anyway? I mean, isn’t it enough that you know that I like you or whatever? I don’t think we need to be boyfriends, fucking sounds gay. Also, you disappeared on me before, that shit fucked me up. What if you do it again? What if I’m more into you than you are--” Mickey rambled. 

He was so steadily trying to avoid looking at Ian, that he hadn’t realized the redhead had gotten up from his chair and had walked toward Mickey. He grabbed his face before Mickey even knew what was happening and crashed his lips over his. Mickey let out a noise of surprise and gave in to the feel of Ian’s lips on his.

It was like a soothing balm on a cut. The feel of Ian kissing him made all of the doubts and unease he felt about their future disappear. 

It was just Ian and Mickey.

The way it was supposed to be.

Ian ended the kiss much too soon for Mickey and he moved back in for a second one when the redhead chuckled softly.

“Water’s boiling,” he muttered, then he moved around Mickey and turned down the stove to finish off making the mac and cheese. 

Mickey stared at him and then sighed, “fucking being ridiculous aren’t I?”

“Mick, it’s okay to feel scared, I fucking do,” Ian said quietly, “you don’t think I’m worried that you’ll leave me or get tired of all the different versions of myself?”

Mickey stared down at the pot of water and noodles as he let that sink in and then he looked up at Ian who was watching him carefully.

“I don’t care about that shit,” he said quietly.

“Good. I don’t care that you hate labels, cause you’re my motherfucking boyfriend. And newsflash, Mick, we are gay and it’s okay. I’m in this with you,” Ian said wrapping his long arms around Mickey and pulling him into a hug.

He didn’t realize how badly he wanted Ian wrapped around him until he was in his arms and his head was buried into his neck. He breathed in the familiar scent of his ginger giant and the unease that had been lingering in his body seemed to dissipate.

“Boyfriends, huh?” Mickey muttered against Ian’s neck.

He felt Ian shake around him in laughter and he smiled simultaneously enjoying the sound and missing it after so long of Ian being out of it.

“Fuck yeah,” Ian said pulling away and kissing him on the lips. “No more running, okay? We’re good?” Ian asked looking into his eyes and cupping his cheek.

Mickey snorted, “I never ran.”

“No, you just didn’t feel comfortable being you,” Ian countered.

Mickey shook his head and rolled his eyes, “Gotta give me time.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ian said softly running a hand through his hair.

“For what it’s worth, when I’m with you, I know I can be myself, be comfortable with who I am,” Mickey muttered embarrassed at revealing something so intimate about how he viewed Ian. He burrowed his head back into Ian’s neck to hide his bashfulness, but the taller man moved back so he could see him fully in the face.

He smiled gently at him and kissed him chastely on the lips before moving away. “Well then obviously, we can never be apart. Come on, I think the noodles are done and I’m starving. My boyfriend wasn’t here to eat lunch with me today and my sister fed me a tuna fish sandwich, which she knows I hate.”

Mickey laughed and watched as Ian began to move around the kitchen emptying the pot of water and the noodles. Mickey knew that Ian wasn’t fully himself yet and he still showed signs of being exhausted, but they were headed in the right direction and that’s all that mattered.

He wasn’t sure when they had switched roles of Ian taking care of him, but then he realized that maybe this is what being in a relationship meant; taking care of each other, protecting each other, through sickness and in health, no matter the cost.

And with that realization, Mickey figured that maybe he wouldn’t be half bad at this boyfriend shit.


	13. The Price Of Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian just wants Mickey to be free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters left! Well, technically one (Mickey's chapter) and then an epilogue. I'm so sad this story is ending! It was such a delight to write. If you'd like to check out any more of my WIPs for Gallavich, there's a s11 one that's super fluffy and I'll be writing a GW2020 fic (although I am stuggling with it.) I have a few additional ideas in the works, but I need to figure out what story I want to do next. I need to get closer to finishing my s11 fic before any other projects. I'm think an enemies-friends-lovers fic, but we'll see. 
> 
> More importantly, I want to thank everyone who has read, commented, and kudoed this story! Also, thank you to those who have bookmarked, I see you! You guys are fantastic and what helps me keep on writing. I hope you like this chapter! Let me know what you think! Read on and stay safe!

_ 2019 _

“Gallagher? Ian? You up?” 

Ian cuddled further into the pillow and let out a little hum. Slowly coming back to the world, he smiled at the sound of Mickey’s voice. 

He felt Mickey shift beside him and then a light tapping on his arm that had found its way around the shorter man’s waist to keep him tucked to him. He knew Mickey wasn’t a fan of cuddling, he’d told him a good two or three times since they’d woken up in this position, but he couldn’t help it. He liked sleeping like this. With his arm across Mickey’s waist, his fingers stuck between his body and the mattress while Ian’s body curled around his. It was perfect.

He found this was the best way to wake up; keeping his boyfriend as close as he could get away with.

Mickey was just going to have to get used to it.

He smiled wider as he thought of Mickey as his  _ boyfriend _ . That now familiar spread of warmth bloomed in his chest and he let out a little sigh of contentment as his eyes finally opened. 

The first thing he noticed was Mickey’s back and the light splattering of freckles on his shoulders that Ian enjoyed licking. He leaned forward to place a gentle kiss there and that seemed to be the sign Mickey needed to turn over and face Ian.

“How many times have I told you to stop that cuddling shit? I’m not a fucking teddy bear, Gallagher,” Mickey grumbled with a pointed glare.

“Sorry, Mick,” Ian said grinning at him and knowing he didn’t look or sound the least bit apologetic. 

Mickey rolled his eyes and moved to turn away, but Ian could see the tiny little smirk resting on his lips. 

“I’m going to be late for work,” Mickey said, rolling back onto his side so his back was pressed to Ian’s chest. He wiggled his hips until they were slotted against Ian’s. The big spoon felt the little spoon’s arm wrap around his own arm to keep it around his waist. 

Ian smirked at how Mickey wasn’t even bothering to move. He  _ knew _ the cuddling was growing on Mickey when the other night while watching TV he’d leaned into Ian and moved his arm so that it rested on his shoulders. He’d said it was to _ get more comfortable _ , but Ian saw the light blush that had blossomed across his cheeks when Ian had made a comment about it.

The only thing was that when Carl and Liam had come bursting through the door, Mickey had moved away, back to the other side of the couch. He felt his heart sink at the maneuver; he ached to pull him back. He wanted to tell him that Carl nor Liam gave a shit. No one in his family gave a shit, but he knew Mickey was still going through his own internal struggles and showing any affection outside of the safety of the two of them was still a relatively foriegn concept to him.

Ian wasn’t sure what to do about that. He wanted to help him come out of his shell and feel more comfortable, but he wasn’t sure how to do so without making Mickey angry or uncomfortable. (Generally, Ian had learned the anger was him showing his discomfort.)

“Don’t let me stop you, Mick,” Ian said, nuzzling against his back. He breathed in Mickey’s aromatic scent and allowed his eyes to close as he savored the moment of waking up with the man he - he  _ loved _ beside him. He didn’t think it would ever get old, waking up beside Mickey, giving him a morning kiss,  _ loving _ him…

Not that he told him.

He didn’t want to scare him away.

Telling Mickey he loved him would definitely freak him out,  _ right _ ?

Ian was already too afraid that he was being too clingy or intense and Mickey would freak out and leave. But when Mickey didn’t move away and instead tightened his hold on his arm and tangled their fingers together, Ian knew that he really shouldn’t worry. 

He knew he shouldn’t dawdle much longer. He was back to working at Patsy’s now that he was feeling more like himself, well actually better than he’d been feeling. He was starting to think the new pills his doctor had given him were working better than the ones Frank had stolen.

“You, ah, you wanna,  _ you know _ ,” Mickey said looking over his shoulder and seeing Ian tucked against his back.

Ian watched as Mickey’s eyes darted south to the sheet that was wrapped loosely around his waist. He knew what Mickey wanted. It had become part of their normal routine before either of them went about their daily business. But he still had difficulties asking for it, at least verbally.

Ian smirked in response, “do I wanna, what?”

Mickey rolled his eyes and moved in to kiss him roughly on the lips. Ian grunted at the sudden move, but it didn’t take him long to respond to the heady kiss. Licking into Mickey’s mouth, he heard the answering moan and he smiled at the sound. He pushed Mickey onto his back and moved to hover over him, grinning down at him when he moved away.

He took a minute to search Mickey’s face finding an openness that no one else was privy to. His previous glare and scowl had faded away and were replaced by such a soft look Ian felt almost frozen in place. The vulnerability that showcased on Mickey’s face made his heart speed up and he was almost afraid to move for fear of breaking the moment.

“Like what you see?” Mickey said softly reaching a hand up and running it down Ian’s face.

“Absolutely,” Ian muttered and moved forward to capture his lips in an open mouthed kiss. Sucking on his bottom lip, Ian nipped at the supple skin. 

His hands moved from their spot on either side of boxing in Mickey’s head to reach down to take a hold of his cock. He gripped his semi-hard on firmly and began to move his hand up and down causing the appendage to stand at full attention.

Coming up for air, he burrowed his head against Mickey’s shoulder and listened to the breathy noises he was making as his hand began to move faster. Pushing himself up on his other arm for a better angle, Ian began to leave open mouthed kisses across Mickey’s throat until he met his lips again and sucked his tongue into his mouth. 

The action made Mickey’s hand move from where they were resting on Ian’s hips to the lower part of his back. Ian could feel one of Mickey’s hands move further south and grab his ass, digging in his fingernails into the flesh. Ian groaned into their kiss and shifted above him, causing their two hard cocks to brush against each other. 

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey gasped out and he pushed Ian’s ass down again and moved his hips up so their lengths could rub against one another again. Ian moved his hand off of Mickey’s dick to grab his own too and gently squeezed their erect members in his palm, resuming his pace from before. Ian moved his hand and Mickey’s hips thrusted up to meet the movements until a high pitched ringing went off and Ian let out a less passionate groan knowing that was their alarm or Mickey’s alarm since he got up earlier.

“Ignore it,” Mickey mumbled, pushing up a little harder against Ian.

“Can’t, too fucking annoying,” Ian said, rolling off of him and pressing the ‘stop’ button.

Turning back to him, Ian found those soft, plump lips again and he felt Mickey smile against him, letting out a pleasant little sigh. 

“Fuck, Gallagher, we don’t got all day,” Mickey said in a mix of annoyance and desperation.

Ian laughed slightly. He’d remind Mickey of this moment later when he tried to pretend that he wasn’t the needy one in bed. Moving toward the bedside table again where the lube was resting, he squirted some on his fingers and moved south to prep Mickey, but before he could touch him, he was stopped.

“I’m ready, just get inside me.”

“Are you s--”

“Do I not fucking look sure?” Mickey grumbled.

Ian smiled slightly and rubbed the lube on his dick and moved forward. Mickey’s thighs were already spread, exposing himself to Ian who grinned lecherously at the sight.

“Fucking love you like this,” Ian said moving forward and pressing a fervent kiss to his lips. Before Mickey could respond, he moved away to align himself up to Mickey’s hole. Their thighs pressed together as Ian rested one hand on Mickey’s thigh and the other on his hip, making sure to keep him exactly where he wanted him. 

He pushed in slower than he usually did because despite Mickey telling him he was ready, he wasn’t sure how much was him hurrying him up and trying to put on a strong front.

When he felt himself bottom out, they let out a moan in unison and Ian tried to adjust to the feel of being inside Mickey. He moved to hover over him again and Mickey’s legs automatically wrapped around his waist. Staring down, Ian met Mickey’s eyes and as he adjusted to his tight, moist heat, he couldn’t help but feel in awe at the raw beauty he saw in the depths of his blue orbs.

He didn’t understand how he could want someone as much as he wanted this man. It was like an insatiable desire that didn’t seem to ever be filled. He just needed him, all the time. Ian knew it probably wasn’t healthy, but he didn’t really give a fuck. Not when he finally had gotten the exact man he’d wanted for such a long time. Not when their time finally came. The stars had aligned or whatever other bullshit people said. This was their fate, being together. Ian didn’t know exactly what it was. But what he did know was this is where he was meant to be and who he was meant to be with.

He began to move his hips slow at first and then sped up as he pounded into him. He heard Mickey’s whispered ‘fucks’ and ‘faster, Gallaghers’ causing him to speed up, knowing they were cutting it close for time. He pressed his chest to Mickey’s and buried his head into his shoulder, nipping and sucking at the flesh there. 

He heard Mickey’s panting speed up and he knew that was a sure sign he was getting close to completion. He moved his hand from Mickey’s hip and wrapped it around his leaking cock syncing his thrusts with his hand movements. 

“Come on, Mick, come for me,” Ian muttered, “Let go.” 

With a breathy moan, Ian looked down to see hot sticky liquid cover his hand and Mickey’s stomach as he pulsed beneath him. Ian pressed himself even closer to Mickey as he felt himself begin to tighten and suddenly he was seeing stars as his orgasm overcame him. He leaned forward and placed his lips over Mickey’s not wanting the closeness to be over.

“Fuck, Gallagher…” Mickey trailed off. He slowly got out of bed and Ian watched as he struggled to find a towel and some clothes to start getting ready for the day. 

Ian laughed as he rolled onto his back and gazed as his South Side thug looked for his khakis.

“Fuckin satisfying way to wake up,” Ian said grabbing a cigarette and the pill box next to the bed. He knew Mickey was going to ask him if he took his pills and he figured he might as well beat him to it.

Mickey grunted in agreement as he continued to search through discarded clothes. “Need to clean in here,” he muttered and Ian smiled softly, unable to move his eyes away. 

“I’m going to be fucking late,” Mickey said distractedly as he finally found his khakis and yanked them on. 

“Are you really complaining?” Ian asked in amusement as he let out a yell of success when he found his shirt.

“Not a chance,” Mickey responded. Moving to kiss Ian ‘goodbye,’ he grabbed his bag discarded in the corner and hurried from the room.

Ian smiled to himself and slowly began to move from the bed.

Much slower, he began to get ready for his shift at Patsy’s. He wanted to get a shower in, but when he went to the bathroom, he wasn’t surprised to find it occupied. Instead, he decided to have breakfast first. Walking into the kitchen, he saw Lip sitting there drinking a mug of coffee.

“Hey,” Ian mumbled, grabbing a mug.

“Saw Mickey run out of here like a bat out of hell. You scare him off already?” Lip teased.

Ian smiled slightly and sat down next to him. It was weird to have a kitchen that was so quiet, but after glancing at the clock, he noticed it was much later than he thought. He’d need to hurry up to get to work by 10. 

“He was running late,” Ian said.

Lip nodded slowly, “yeah? Figured he was late cause of the loud moaning noises coming from your room.”

Ian smirked, not feeling in the least embarrassed, although, he knew if Mickey was here, he would be. He wanted his boyfriend to feel comfortable where he lived and he knew that everyone in the house knew what was going on with them - they’d all confronted him about it at least twice - but Ian knew Mickey didn’t want people to know. He knew it wasn’t cause of being ashamed of him, it was just that he didn’t feel comfortable with anyone knowing about him. Even if those people didn’t care.

It was frustrating to see Mickey keeping himself caged in, when all Ian wanted was for him to be free.

They may be in a good place, but Ian doubted his issues with being gay didn’t go away. However, that didn’t stop Ian from wanting his boyfriend to at least be comfortable and out in his own house. He knew his siblings didn’t care and Ian wanted Mickey to understand that.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m off today was going to hang around here for a bit, Carl and I are going to go out for breakfast,” Lip said, shrugging.

Ian nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

“How’s, uh, how’s it going with Mickey?” Lip asked hesitantly.

Ian smiled despite himself and looked down at the table so Lip couldn’t see how ecstatic he truly was. He knew he didn’t do a good job when Lip laughed softly.

“You should see how fucking smitten you are right now, man, like a fucking stuffed animal, soft motherfucker.”

Flicking him off, he muttered, “Fine. How’s Mandy?”

“We’re good.”

Both brothers turned back to their coffees, until Lip broke the silence. “It must be good with him, right?”

Ian shrugged, not wanting to divulge any details.

“Yeah, it’s good,” Lip answered for him.

“It is, but…” To bide his time, Ian took another sip of coffee to buy himself some time to figure out how to articulate what was bothering him to Lip.

“But what?”

“I’m - I want to take him out, somewhere public and to a nice restaurant or something, but...I mean, it’s all really new,” Ian said quietly.

“Yeah, but if you want to take him out, then take him out,” Lip said, not seeing the big deal.

“You don’t get it, Mickey’s kinda...he doesn’t like - I mean, he’s not really out, so...taking him on a date would...well, I’m not sure what it would be, but I just feel like it wouldn’t be a good idea. Mickey doesn’t even like doing coupley-stuff in the house with you guys…” Ian sighed and glanced at his brother who was frowning.

“Can you go out on a date without it actually looking like a date?”

“I don’t want to do that. I’d like to be - I’d like for us to be, you know, okay being out and just...together. But Mickey… I know he’s coming to terms with his own shit, but it would just be nice go out on a date,” Ian struggled to say. 

Looking up, Ian saw Lip starting at him pensively. “I’m sorry.” 

He shrugged in response, “I guess I could take him out and just make it seem… we shouldn’t be ashamed though. We’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. I mean I lo-- I  _ care _ about him.”

Lip smirked widely at him, “Ian Clayton Gallagher are you in love with Mickey Milkovich?”

Ian blushed and looked away, “so the fuck what?”

“Just talk to him, man, I’m sure you’ll be out at some too expensive restaurant making out over beers and burgers. Don’t worry so much,” Lip said as Carl came bounding down into the kitchen.

Ian watched as his older and younger brother grabbed their things and prepared to leave the house. They said goodbye to him and Ian knew it was time for him to get a move on.

He finished his coffee and headed back upstairs, his mind going over different scenarios he could bring up to ask Mickey if he wanted to go out for a date.

It was so ridiculous when he thought about it.

They’d known each other for years.

They’d been fucking like rabbits whenever they were together.

And Ian had told him they were boyfriends.

They’d already been out together. Why couldn’t Ian just act like when they’d gone out before?

The truth was he wasn’t sure how he would keep his hands to himself if Mickey was there to freely touch.

A small voice in his head reminded him that he wasn’t able to take Mickey’s hand in public or kiss him on the lips whenever he wanted to. 

Now he could, but not in public. 

Ian wanted to show Mickey off; he wanted to spend time with him and he wanted Mickey to enjoy spending time with him too. 

He wanted to take him out on dates without worrying about his boyfriend getting anxious.

He wasn’t sure if he’d go for it, not when Mickey pulled away whenever they weren’t in their bedroom. They’d gotten caught by Fiona a few times and Liam once, but whenever anyone else was around, Mickey had a strict ‘do not touch rule.’ 

He didn’t want to push him, but on the other hand, he wanted to help Mickey get out of his shell. 

Ian wanted all of Mickey; the friendship, the relationship, the physical, the emotional, and the intimacy of being a real couple. A couple who didn’t hide.

* * *

_ 2010 _

“You wanna go outside?” Fiona asked, coming into the boy’s room and stopping beside Ian’s bed.

He was laying on his side facing the wall, the exact same place he’d been in for the last two days.

“Come on, Ian, let’s get outside,” Fiona nudged. She touched his shoulder gently and he sighed and rolled over to look at her.

“I don’t want to go outside,”

“Okay, well, we could go downstairs? Maybe watch some TV?” she asked.

He shook his head and moved to roll back over to stare at the wall.

“Ian, you’ve been like this for two days. What’s wrong?” she asked.

He felt the bed shift beneath as she sat down.

“I don’t feel well,” he said, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

Fiona sighed, “does this have anything to do with you being in the hospital?”

Ian didn’t respond.

“Do you want to talk about that?”

“Nothing to talk about.”

Fiona was silent for a few minutes. He almost forgot she was there if she hadn’t shifted and wrapped her hand around his shoulder.

“Can you talk to me, please? I just - I’m worried about you. This is - this is some Monica shit,” she mumbled.

He scowled and turned onto his back to look at his sister. She stared down at him giving him her best worried expression and he tried to hold her gaze, but he kept darting away to look at the ceiling or the edge of the window.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he began, “but...I was seeing someone. We broke up.”

Fiona smiled sadly, “he break your heart?”

Ian looked away, but very subtly nodded.

“You know...there’s no use wallowing if he’s already gone. The best thing you can do is get back out there and find someone else who cares about you, who will love you for you.”

Ian snorted, “yeah, like you have?”

“Gotta have faith. But first you get your heartbroken, it happens to us all.”

Ian felt tears gathering in his eyes and subconsciously placed a hand over his chest, he knew his heart wasn’t literally broken, but it hurt.

A lot.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe properly. Like he was missing something. He wished he could pick up the phone and call Mickey, he thought about it constantly. But then he remembered. 

“Does it get better?”

Fiona shrugged, “you want me to lie to you?”

Ian huffed, “I really thought he - he cared about me.”

“I’m sure he - whoever he was - did, but...maybe he’s just not ready for a relationship yet. Maybe he just needs time to become the person he’s supposed to be. Maybe you do too. You’re young, Ian, a lot will happen to you, some good and some bad, and maybe you just got the timing wrong,” Fiona said quietly.

Ian smiled slightly, “when did you become an expert on love?”

She smiled back, “I’m not, but timing is everything. Figured that shit out the hard way. Now come on, let’s hobble you outside onto the back porch. Carl has some skateboard trick he wants to show everyone and I know he’ll be bummed if you miss it.”

Ian rolled his eyes and made a big show out of getting out of bed. Fiona helped him and they grabbed his crutches and he made the long way downstairs. He spent the afternoon hanging out with his siblings. He didn’t necessarily feel better and the gapping hole in his chest where Mickey would always reside was dark and hollow. He wondered if there was something to Fiona’s timing comment. Maybe he just needed to give Mickey time to get used to being who he was. Maybe he just needed to give him time to find himself. Maybe he just needed to give him time to come back to him. 

Isn’t that what those love stories always said?


	14. Then And Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey reflects on the past and Ian pushes him in the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! And thank you to everyone who has read this little fic. There will be an epilogue. I'll try to get it up on my usual day next week (wed/thurs) or sooner if I can swing it. Basically a little more of a wrap up. I want to thank everyone who has commented and kudod and bookmarked. Everyone who has taken the time to read this story has been great! I'm glad you guys enjoyed it and stuck with it. 
> 
> I'm sad it's ending, but I'm excited to move on to another story as well. For now, I have a season 11 fic and I'm writing a one shot for GW2020 that I'm struggling with, but once I have a bit more time I'm thinking an AU, I have a few ideas, but I can't decide. Just a warning, I won't be posting another fic until the s11 one is finished, cause being back in school is fucking hard. Anywho, I'll keep you guys posted. If you want to follow me, I'm livinginsunnyhell on tumblr! Thanks again for reading! and leave a comment if you'd like!

_ 2010 _

The smoke from his cigarette mingled with the air as Mickey stared up at the crappy house he’d called home for his entire life. He shifted the small backpack strap on his shoulder and considered going back inside and just pretending that everything was normal and fine. He had some more time before Terry was let out of prison, he could just stay here, stay where it was familiar and - and - but Mickey knew he couldn’t do that.

He wasn’t safe here anymore.

The truth was he couldn’t go back inside. Just like he couldn’t go back to a world before he was in the hospital. A time when he was happy and had--

But this was his life now and he needed to figure out his next steps. 

_ What was he going to do now? _

Terry would kill him if he stayed at home and well, the life Mickey had thought he had was over now. The person he wanted was gone.

He tossed his cigarette to the concrete and then took one last look at the house, his thoughts racing as he considered starting over. Sandy had said he could stay with them for a little while and that was his plan for now. 

His body was still healing from the inflicted wounds from his father, but he’d been discharged once he was stable enough. The hospital knew he didn’t have insurance and that he wasn’t going to pay. They weren’t going to turn him away (he was pretty fucked up), but Mickey knew they weren’t going to let him overstay his welcome, so once he was given the all clear, he was booted from the hospital.

After staying in the house for a few days, he decided he couldn’t be there anymore, not with Terry’s shadow lingering, so he’d called Sandy and asked to stay with her until he figured out his next steps.

And maybe, if he was being honest, there were other reasons he didn’t want to stay on the Southside either. 

He’d considered going to visit Firecrotch. He’d thought about stomping over there and demanding he talk to him. 

But there were just some actions that spoke volumes. 

And those actions told him he was never worth it in the first place.

A burning sensation took over his stomach and he considered smoking another cigarette as thoughts of Firecrotch invaded his mind. Mickey attempted to focus on the new beginning he was giving himself while his father was back in prison (for now), but once the floodgates were open to thoughts of Carrot Top, he couldn’t stop his cyclical thinking.

_ Why had he never bothered to call him? _

_ Was a text too much to even fucking ask for? _

Iggy had said he hadn’t tried to contact him at all while he was unconscious. His brother told him to drop it, but couldn’t seem to shake it off.

At first, Mickey found that hard to believe, but the longer he didn’t hear from the redhead, the sinking sensation that had started in his heart seemed to become stronger and stronger. 

He knew the truth.

Ian was gone.

A leaden feeling settled in his bones as he realized that his best friend - his - his  _ almost-boyfriend _ had just vanished on him.

He shoved thoughts of Firecrotch out of his mind again and turned away from his childhood home to head to Sandy’s.

He had the opportunity to start fresh and that meant he could be anyone he wanted to be.

He could be blonde.

He could be straight.

He could be a fucking upstanding citizen.

Trying to focus on the world being at his fingertips, he knew it wasn’t really going to work out that way. He was Mickey Milkovich and he was fucked for life.

He knew he couldn’t logically shove down a part of himself, but what if he could pretend for a little while? Maybe it would get easier over time. Maybe eventually he’d feel okay being himself. Maybe he’d even get the chance to be free.

Who was he kidding, good things never happened to him.

His future was already written and it didn’t contain anything except prison sentences and drug runs. 

_ Intimacy and love _ weren’t in the cards for him, he’d decided that over the last few days. He told himself he didn’t care, that it didn’t matter, that he was better off for it. 

Sometimes he believed it and sometimes he hoped his phone would ring and Firecrotch would be on the other end with an apology on his lips. He figured if he kept repeating it, maybe he’d kid himself into thinking it was true.

As he walked down the street and toward the L, he made a vow to himself. He didn’t want to suppress a part of himself, but for now, until he could fully heal after what happened, he’d do what he could to push those feelings into the darkest parts of his being. 

He wasn’t going to acknowledge this secret he harbored. 

For now, he was just going to be what other people expected him to be: a Southside thug who dealt drugs and sold guns. 

It wasn’t his dream, but the life he had wanted had disappeared the moment Ian was ripped from his arms.

This was his life now.

He had to move on.

That meant for the time being, he was going to live up to the label he’d had since birth. He’d pretend everything was fine, pretend his heart didn’t feel like it had been ripped out and stomped on.

He’d pretend until he knew he was safe.

* * *

_ 2019 _

“Hey, Mick, you gonna stand outside all night?” 

Mickey looked up to meet his  _ boyfriend’s  _ smirking face and he made sure to roll his eyes in an exaggerated manner to show him how not funny he found him. Inwardly though, he felt that familiar ball of happiness reside in his chest as his eyes landed on a smirking Ian Gallagher on the front steps of the house.

“Fuck off. I was finishing my cig. Bout to come inside,” he snapped. Tossing his cigarette, he ground it into the pavement. 

The truth was, he had been lost in thought. He’d had a long day at work and it had taken its toll on him. He was tired of dealing with shitty teenagers and managers who thought they could boss him around in some bullshit pretentious manner. Knowing he was coming home to Ian made it worth it though. By the time he’d gotten within eyesight of the Gallagher house, the more relaxed he felt. 

It was a weird feeling to have: contentment.

He didn’t have to worry about what he’d come home to (although, with the Gallaghers, it really could be anything, but he knew he’d never have to deal with violence and slurs thrown at him) or if he’d have to find some abandon building to hang out in to avoid dealing with whomever was at the house.

While he wasn’t the biggest fan of Fiona’s boyfriend and kids made him uncomfortable cause he wasn’t sure what to do around them, he didn’t feel unwelcome or like he was a burden.

That meant more to him than even Ian probably would ever know.

He heard him snicker and when he looked up, he was momentarily taken away with how fucking gorgeous Ian Gallagher was. The sunlight was hitting him just right, causing his red hair to look like windswept flames. He was leaning against the railing of the small staircase on the front porch, his arms crossed, and a smirk was on his lips, but it was the gleeful look in his eyes that caused Mickey to feel his heartbeat pick up. 

He wondered not for the first time how he’d gotten so lucky to have found this man again. After all the shit they’d gone through separately, here he was again with Ian fucking Gallagher. Maybe this is where he was supposed to be all along. Maybe if shit hadn’t gotten so fucked up with his dad, he would’ve been here the whole time. Then neither of them would’ve had to deal with the shitty cards they’d been dealt.

But another part of him knew that not everything was sunshine and roses just because they liked each other -  _ more than liked each other _ .

They still had a long way to go, but for now, everything was perfect.

“Come on, I made us dinner,” Ian said nodding for him to come into the house.

“You waitin’ around for me, Gallagher?” Mickey teased not anticipating that he was correct.

Ian shot him a bashful smile and Mickey’s heart did a flip in his chest at the fact that his  _ boyfriend  _ was waiting for him to get home because he was looking forward to spending time with him because he fucking  _ missed _ him. 

Mickey followed after him, his fingers itching to reach out and pull him in, kiss him hard on the lips and stare into Ian’s eyes…  _ fuck, he sounded like such a girl. _

As they passed through the living room, Mickey glanced around when he didn’t see anyone else. 

“Where’s the Brady Bunch?” he asked, his fingers already moving to grab at Ian. If there was no one around, then he had every intention of kissing him the way he hadn’t since this morning.

“Out, I guess,” Ian said, still walking toward the kitchen. 

Mickey smiled at that and knew that was his cue. He reached forward and wrapped an arm around Ian’s waist to stop him. Leaning in, he kissed him gently on the lip. He’d planned on kissing him more roughly, but after the day he’d hand, he found he needed the softness only his boyfriend could provide. 

He felt Ian melt against him and he ran his tattooed fingers through his boyfriend’s hair, loving the way the red strands felt against his skin. When they pulled apart, Mickey nuzzled his jawline and placed a kiss where he knew would cause Ian to shiver in response.

Ian did just that and to Mickey’s surprise, he moved away. He had figured, they’d take this upstairs and take advantage of the empty house, but Ian seemed to have other ideas

“What?” Mickey asked when he saw the anxiety begin to sink into his eyes.

“Nothing, just...I, uh, I want to ask you something, but I’m kinda freaked out about it,” Ian blurted out and Mickey looked at him in surprise. The redhead’s face was also in shock and he wondered if he’d meant to say that.

Since when was Gallagher afraid of asking him anything, Mickey mused and a nervousness began to settle in as he wondered if he should be worried about what Ian was going to say.

“What’s up?” Mickey asked, pulling away and going toward the fridge to grab a beer. He wasn’t crazy about the tone of voice Ian had and he wasn’t sure how that was going to play out. He figured a beer would help take the anxious edge off. He eyed the dirty dishes in the sink and the two perfectly made up plates of what he assumed was the aforementioned dinner Ian had made them. He tried to ignore the ooey gooey sensation in his stomach at the sight of Ian having made them dinner and focus on how he’d buttered him up to ask him whatever it was that was causing him to look like he was trying to resemble a tomato.

“Do you, uh, want to go out tomorrow night?” Ian asked edgily.

Mickey frowned and cracked open his beer as Ian’s words registered with him.

“The fuck you asking me that for?”

“Cause I want to go on a date with you,” Ian said bluntly.

The beer was halfway toward Mickey’s mouth and he stopped before the cold liquid could sail down his throat.

A date? 

Ian wanted to go out,  _ with him _ ?   


It was probably silly to think that when they were  _ dating,  _ but sometimes Mickey was still surprised Ian wanted to spend time with him in a  _ romantic fashion _ instead of just banging all the time. Mickey was just as shocked to find he enjoyed spending time with him romantically. 

His first thought was they’d gone out on dates before, but then he realized they really hadn’t. Not an official one at least. 

His second thought was to feel blown away that he and Ian were actually dating. That feeling of elation that they were actually together without anyone or anything getting in the way always made him feel breathless… 

It was just shocking that he was able to reach out and touch Ian whenever he wanted to without having to worry about what he would do or they got to kiss whenever Mickey wanted, of course it was always in the comfort of their own room. 

Mickey wasn’t that comfortable yet with kissing or holding hands or doing any of that other gay shit with an audience present. He felt a little guilty about it, especially because he knew Ian wanted to kiss him even if his family was around. Mickey just never grew up with intimacy being involved in anything, so while it was weird to see the Gallaghers so loving toward one another, it was even stranger to be a participant. But he wanted to try being more open, for Ian. And for himself because he felt safe with these people and he knew -  _ he knew he was okay here _ . 

But that didn’t mean he was ready to be out and proud in public. 

“What?”

“A date, you know, we could get dressed up and go to a restaurant… get a steak, maybe?” Ian suggested almost shyly.

Mickey smiled slightly at his tone. A brief image of the two of them at some nice restaurant, holding hands and staring across the table at each other materialized… but then he thought of the other people in the restaurant, the waiter seeing their linked hands… 

He swallowed uncomfortable at the idea of other people turning their noses up at them, looking at them in disgust. A twisting sensation in his stomach overcame him and he tried to take a sip of his beer to wash away the disconcertment.

“You want us to go on a date? Like in public?”

“Well, yeah.”

Mickey licked his top lip and then bit his lower one as he considered Ian’s question. He moved to raise his thumb up to each his eyebrow as he tried to figure out what to say, but it turned out he didn’t need to, not when Ian butted in and began to ramble.

“I know you’re not comfortable...being out. I mean, I know you get anxious, even with my family, but I just...I want to take you out. I want us to go on a date. But I also don’t want you to get...I mean, what do you think?” 

Mickey felt his shoulders slump a little as he thought about going out with Ian. He really fucking love to. There wasn’t anything he wanted more than to show him off and hold his hand in public and kiss him over some stupidly expensive meal. 

But the thought of actually doing all of that stuff - in fucking public - terrified him. What if someone he knew saw them? What if someone made a comment to them? How would he deal if someone looked at them in disgust?

He wasn’t a stranger to those looks, he got them all the time at his work when people saw his tattooed knuckles, but he wasn’t sure if he could take people looking at  _ Ian _ that way. He wasn’t sure if he could take their judgement when all he wanted was to be out with his boyfriend and have a good time.

“Ian--”

“I want to show you off, Mick, is that so wrong?” Ian added in a desperate tone.

Mickey felt deflated because he felt the same way. He wished he was more comfortable with himself. He wished he could give Ian everything, but the thought of being out in public, even being around Ian’s family doing anything that was even remotely intimate caused his stomach to twist in knots and a nauseous feeling to bubble to the surface.

Ian deserved to be with someone who was comfortable with himself and wanted to go out with him. He deserved someone who didn’t get anxious when their hands brushed together when a sibling was in the room or when Ian wanted to kiss him after a long day at work or cuddle on the couch, but he couldn’t stop the hammering of his heart at the idea of someone looking at them a little too long, of seeing their most intimate moments, of judging them because they were unexpected.

He was well aware that everyone in the house knew they were fucking, but he didn’t want an audience when he kissed his boyfriend or touched him. 

It made him...anxious.

To put it mildly.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Mickey doubted other people felt this uncomfortable when they kissed their significant other in public. But also, Mickey knew most other people had never dealt with a raging homophobic who tried to kill them for loving their best friend.

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay,” Ian said softly. Mickey watched as Ian came to stand in front of him. He rested his hands on Mickey’s shoulders and moved him a little closer. “I just want you to be comfortable,” Ian said quietly.

Mickey rolled his eyes and tried to maintain some semblance of control over the conversation, “where the fuck’s all this coming from?”

Ian looked sheepish, “I just know how you get with my family and I--”

“Jesus, Ian, just cause I don’t want to be making out in front of your sib--”

“It’s not just that! It’s more than that. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable where you live. This is serious for me--” 

“It’s serious for me too,” Mickey said quickly.

“Really?” Ian asked hesitantly.

He nodded and then huffed. His eyes were darting to the side, unable to meet Ian’s luminous orbs, “yeah, but like I said before, I just need some time. I know your family knows about us, I just need - I’ve lived my entire life thinking the way I am isn’t a good thing. And I know your family is cool and fine, but it’s hard to erase years of thinking I’m - I’m made up wrong or whatever because I’m around people who don’t give a fuck who I’m attracted to anymore.”

Ian kissed him softly on his lips and rested his forehead against his. Mickey felt himself relax into his embrace and nuzzled their noses together, thinking that was the end of the conversation.

“I don’t mean to push, I just...I don’t want you to have to hide in your own home. You’ve had to do that for years and you don’t have to do that here. It’s a safe space,” Ian said softly.

Mickey pulled away and sighed. Taking a pull from the almost forgotten beer, to give himself time to think of how to respond to that, Ian moved his hands from his shoulders down to his waist.

“It’s a safe space, Mick, you’re safe here,” Ian repeated tenderly. 

Mickey felt Ian’s thumbs skim his skin as they found their way under his shirt and he shuffled closer, enjoying the little touches he was giving him.

“Yeah, whatever,” Mickey muttered and placed his free hand on the side of Ian’s face. He looked into his green eyes. 

All he saw there was love and he felt a tightening in his chest at how clearly he saw the fondness in his boyfriend’s eyes. He knew Ian didn’t mean to push him, but he was and while Mickey would’ve shot down anyone else, this was Ian Gallagher and he knew he just wanted him to be himself. He just wanted him to be comfortable where he was, but what Ian didn’t know was that as long as he was with him, he was free. What they had made him free and that’s all Mickey needed.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against his. Melting into Ian’s distinctive taste, Mickey pressed his tongue against the seam of his lips, licking into his mouth when Ian finally opened himself to him. He sighed in contentment as their tongues slid against one another and Mickey’s fingers moved to the back of his head to bring him closer. Nipping at his bottom lip, he felt Ian smile at the sensation and his hands moved from his hips to grasp at his ass. Pulling him closer so their hips were pressed against one another, Mickey grinned as the beginnings of a hard on pressed against his own.

“Wanna take this upstairs?” Mickey muttered, pulling away to look into Ian’s face.

Ian smiled and through the material of his khakis, Mickey felt him begin to massage his ass.

“I guess...I only spent an hour slaving over this hot meal,” he said playfully.

Mickey laughed and kissed him hard on the lips before pulling him toward the stairs. “We can eat it after, gotta work up an appetite first.”

Mickey tossed a smirk back at him, only to find Ian giving him a pensive look.

“What’s that look for?” Mickey asked, stopping midway up the stairs.

Ian looked away and shrugged and Mickey sighed. He licked his lips as he watched Ian try to put a content smile on his face and he knew he was going to have to give a little to make him happy. 

He cared about him and wanted to be out with him, he just needed to do things his own way and he needed Ian to understand that it didn’t have anything to do with him, it was all Mickey.

“Ian, I, uh, I just need time. It’s not forever, but maybe I could, I don’t know, get more comfortable around your family and then...plus, Mandy, I mean… I’ll get there eventually,” Mickey said quietly. 

Ian gave him that same fond look from earlier and he nodded, pulling him back in toward him. 

“I know, Mick,” he muttered, “I’ll wait for you.” Grabbing the lapels of his shirt, he dragged him in for another kiss. They stumbled toward their room and only just closed the door before Ian pushed him onto the bed. 

Looking up at Ian hovering above him with such devotion reflected in his eyes, Mickey felt like he was a teenager again staring at the man that made him feel like he could do anything. 

He smiled up at him and when he grinned down at Mickey, he knew that all the shit they’d gone through was worth it as long as Ian was here. He’d go through it all over again as long as Ian was his destination. 

He felt tempted to tell him that he loved him then, Ian’s own eyes reflected the sentiment, but as he leaned down to place a heady kiss on his lips, he knew there’d be time for that later.

There’d be all the time in the world for them to be together.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more time, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who is reading! Special thanks to those who commented, kudoed, and bookmarked. 
> 
> You guys have been so great during this journey for Gallavich in this universe. It was great fun to write. If you like my writing, check out my other stories. I know I was supposed to update my s11 fic yesterday, but I am a bit stuck on it (homework and a tv binge didn't help the writing process, but that is where we are), but a new update will be sometime this week. Also, you can expect at least one GW2020 fic. So look out for all the fics. 
> 
> Anywho, thanks again and here is the epilogue! Enjoy!

The wind rattled the windows of the Gallagher house as a snowstorm started up outside, but inside it was toasty warm due to the overheated kitchen. Fiona was finishing dumping a bowl of steaming green beans onto a plate big enough to hold them and then called over Mickey, who had somehow gotten roped into helping her cook the large Thanksgiving meal.

“Can you put this on the table, please?” Fiona asked, handing over the bowl.

Mickey took it from her hands and placed it on the already full kitchen table. He glanced around at the heaping piles of food and then over at Fiona who was cutting out a tray of cornbread to finish off the dinner spread.

“It looks great, Fi,” Ian said coming into the kitchen. Behind him, Mickey could see his sister holding hands with Lip as they regaled Liam with some story and Carl was talking animatedly to Debbie who had finally come home. Kev, V, and Fiona’s boyfriend were out on the back porch watching the snow, drinking beers, and escaping the heat of the kitchen. Their twins were playing in the living room with Emily and every so often there was an excited shriek piercing the cacophony.

“Hope it tastes just as good,” she muttered, finishing placing the cornbread on the plate and then handing it to Mickey with a grateful smile.

He gave her a tight lipped smile back and tried to find a place for it. Ian moved forward to help him shift some things around and Mickey flashed him a smile to say ‘thanks.’ The redhead grinned back and reached out a hand to subtly touch his palm before moving his fingers away to avoid being noticed by anyone. Mickey opened his mouth, but was cut off when Fiona began to speak.

“You guys better be hungry.”

“Thanks for doing all this,” Ian said leaning against the counter and taking in all of the dishes she’d spent two days cooking.

She shrugged and drew him in for a hug before quickly giving Mickey a hug too, much to his surprise.

“Thanks for being here,” she said quietly. Ian smiled at Mickey over her shoulder and he rolled his eyes in response. Pulling away, Fiona moved into the living room to get everyone into the kitchen to begin dinner.

“Heard you made the cornbread,” Ian said smirking playfully at him.

Mickey grumbled, “your sister looked stressed.”

“She’s always stressed,” Ian said regretfully. 

Mickey reached out to touch his hip and bring him a little closer. It had happened little by little, but he’d finally gotten to a point where showing affection, at least in front of the Gallaghers wasn’t as big of a deal as it had once been. However, today would be the first time they’d been around Kev, V, and Mandy. 

It had been awhile since Lip and Mandy had come by the house since they’d been busy and even though he tried to get together with his sister once a month, his love life was never brought up. At least, not in the sense of a love life, he talked about Ian a lot because they were friends first and foremost, but if she suspected anything, she didn’t say anything.

Sometimes, Mickey thought his sister already knew and other times, he figured she was waiting for him to say something. In all honesty though, he wasn’t sure how to bring it up and he didn’t want to talk about it. He just sorta hoped she’d figure it out and they’d never have to have that conversation.

They were Milkoviches and talking about their feelings wasn’t a thing they did. No matter how much they grew, Mickey knew it wasn’t something they would probably ever do.

The sound of shuffling and footsteps became louder and Ian moved to take a step back, but Mickey tugged him closer as everyone began to make their way into the kitchen and find a place at the table. Mickey wrapped his fingers around Ian’s hand and tugged him toward the table, making sure to grab two seats by each other. They ended up sitting across from Mandy and Lip, who were absorbed in one another, until Fiona grabbed everyone’s attention.

“Thanks everyone for coming. It’s our first Thanksgiving together in awhile and I’m happy that we have some new faces too,” Fiona began raising a glass to everyone. “I’m not one for speeches, but it’s been a helluva year and I just wanted to say that I am very fucking grateful to each and everyone of you.” 

Everyone raised their glasses to her speech and once they did a round of ‘cheers’ then dug into the meal. 

It was halfway through listening to a story Lip was telling them about robots or some shit that Mickey realized his sister’s gaze was resting on his hand in Ian’s, which was on the table. He saw her eyeing their interlaced hands and when she glanced up at him, she smiled. For a moment, she looked like she wanted to open her mouth to say something, but then she gave a little nod and her grin widened a bit more. Grateful, he gave her a tight lipped smile back before taking a bite of the cornbread Fiona had nagged him to make. 

He felt Ian’s hand squeeze his and he looked up to see him fondly smiling down at him before turning back to the conversation. 

“...heard you guys were looking for an apartment,” Lip was saying.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re looking, but we still have to save,” Ian said moving his hand out of Mickey’s and wrapping it around the back of his chair. Mickey shifted a bit closer and watched as Mandy looked back and forth between them. He expected a wave of anxiety to hit him, but it never came. Instead, he felt content, so he moved to rest his hand on Ian's thigh and dug into another bite of mashed potatoes.

Soon dinner was finished and Fiona had elected everyone who didn’t cook to clean up, so Mickey slipped out the back door and lit up a cigarette to avoid listening to everyone whine about doing the dishes. He was halfway through his cigarette when he heard the door close behind him and Ian stepped out to join him.

“How’d you escape clean up duty?” Mickey asked, handing over his cigarette.

Ian laughed softly and took it from him, cuddling closer since he hadn’t grabbed a jacket and it was freezing outside.

“Carl and Debs got into an argument about who was drying, it was easy once they were the distraction,” Ian said softly.

Mickey smiled tenderly at him and leaned up to kiss him on the lips before plucking the cigarette from his fingers.

“Mandy knows,” Mickey said, glancing out into the snowy streets.

“I noticed.”

There was a beat of silence as Ian leaned into Mickey to stay warm and the shorter man wrapped an arm around his waist.

“That bother you?” Ian asked quietly.

“No.”

Smiling at the answer, Ian placed a kiss to the top of his head and closed his eyes to take a moment to relax into his boyfriend’s embrace.

“You ever think this is where we’d end up, man?” Mickey mumbled as he handed over the cigarette.

Ian let out a soft laugh and clutched the offered cigarette. He took a hit before answering and then nodded slowly. “I didn’t know, but I’d hoped, I guess. Hoped I’d end up here, with you, it’s the only place I’ve ever wanted to be,” he whispered, staring down at the cigarette.

Ian half expected Mickey to call him a ‘soft bitch,’ but instead, he was silent.

When he looked up, he saw Mickey watching him carefully with a tender expression and then he grasped the back of Ian’s neck and pulled him toward him. 

The kiss was desperate and heady as they both got lost in the feel of each other. Their lips melding together and caused their bodies to heat up at the contact. Even the coldness surrounding them seemed to melt away when they met. They only pulled away when they heard their names being yelled.

“Hey!” Mandy exclaimed in a voice that told them she’d been trying to get their attention for awhile.

“Fiona’s starting a movie, you guys want to join?” she asked.

Mickey looked at Ian and he shrugged in response. 

“Sure.” 

She nodded and moved back into the house as they followed after her. Exchanging looks again, Ian wrapped his hand around Mickey’s and brought their entwined hands up to kiss the back of his hand. He smiled shyly at him, which prompted Ian’s dopey grin in return. 

As they entered the living room, they looked around at their friends and family and finally found a spot big enough for the both of them in the corner. Settling in to watch the movie, they relaxed into each other, basking in a sense of belonging as they sat surrounded by safety, warmth, and love. 

After feeling lost for so long, they had finally found their way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! You guys are incredible. Find me on Tumblr at livinginsunnyhell if you want!


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